£HIV.  OF  CAUR  LIBRARY,  LO6 


IN  SUNNY  FRANCE 


PRESENT-DAY  LIFE  IN  THE  FRENCH 
REPUBLIC 


HENRY 

AUTHOR  OF  "UNDER  THE  QUEEN,"  "QUESTIONS  OF  THE   HEART, 
"  MASSES  AND  CLASSES,"  "THE  LATTER-DAY  EDEN,"  ETC. 


CINCINNATI :  CRANSTON  &  CURTS 
NEW  YORK  :  HUNT  &  EATON 


Copyright 

By  CRANSTON  &  CURTS, 
1894. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


THESE  sketches  of  folks  and  things  in  France, 
the  product  of  considerable  observation  and 
study,  are  humbly  offered  to  those  readers  who  may 
wish  to  inform  or  refresh  themselves  in  a  general 
and  pleasant  way  upon  the  most  interesting  phases 
of  French  life  without  devoting  much  time  to  the 
subject;  and  the  author  is  joined  by  the  devoted 
companion  of  his  journeys  and  labors  in  specially 
dedicating  this  little  work,  as  a  token  of  affection- 
ate regard  and  in  memory  of  much  delightful  fel- 
lowship, to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  H.  Maynard,  of 
Providence,  Rhode  Island,  dear  friends  of  ours, 
who  happily  combine,  with  a  rare  love  of  home 
and  native  land,  a  great  liking  for  travel,  and  an 
intelligent  appreciation  of  life  and  affairs  in  the 
nations  of  Europe. 

HENRY  TUCKLEY. 
3' 


2133215 


IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


i. 

PARIS  AND  LONDON. 

First  Impressions — A  Tale  of  Two  Cities — How  they  differ 
from  Each  Other — "  London  for  Commerce ;  Paris  for 
Gayety  " — Proverbial  Notions  confirmed — The  Struggle 
of  Life — A  Pathetic  Caution — Dynamite  and  the  Com- 
mune— The  Masses  in  London  and  Paris:  A  Contrast — 
Drunkenness  in  the  Two  Cities — Parisian  Caf£s — Parisian 
Architecture :  A  Complaint — Another  Contrast  with 
London — Architectural  Monotony — ''  Such  a  getting  Up- 
stairs"— Features  in  which  Paris  is  Unrivaled — The 
View  from  Place  de  la  Concorde — Paris  by  Gaslight — 
Bewildering  Mazes— The  Parisian  Cabman— Hia  Loud 
Ways  and  Low  Charges — An  Instance  of  Good  Horse- 
sense — Parisian  Policemen— The  Principal  Thing  in 
Paris — French  Poodles — Passing  View  of  Parisian  Swells — 
Ladies  and  Babies — Some  Paris  Fashions,  .  .  Pages  20-30. 

II. 
AMERICANS  IN  PARIS. 

American  Students  at  the  French  Capital — Lessons  in  Lan- 
guage— What  they  cost — Pupils  in  Music — Advantages  of 
Foreign  Study — What  the  Students  say — Spending  a  For- 
tune to  make  One — A  Case  in  Point — Paris  as  an  Art 
Center — French  Generosity — Novitiates  of  the  Brush  and 
Easel — Fine  Opportunities  at  Small  Cost — The  Ecole  des 
Beaux  Arts — Dining  the  Professors — Women  in  the  Art 
Studio — Gallantry  that  pays— The  Social  Life  of  Art 
Students— How  the  Girls  are  cared  for — A  Place  of 

7 


8  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

Sweetness  and  Light — American  ''At  Homes"  in  Paris — 
A  Wholesome  Warning—Parisian  Pitfalls— (lifted  Ameri- 
can Boys — Great  Painters  in  Embryo  Houghing  it  in 
Paris— American  Students  and  the  American  Minister — 
A  Tell-tale  Titter— The  American  Art  Students'  Club— 
The  Bright  Aspects  of  Student  Life— Moral  Safeguards. 

Pages  31-39. 
III. 
ON  THE  BOULEVARDS. 

Mementos  of  Louis  XIV — The  Paris  of  the  Past — Land- 
marks of  a  Great  City's  Growth — An  Interesting  Walk — 
The  Madeleine:  Its  Significant  History — The  Portes  St. 
Denis  and  St.  Martin — Sanguinary  Scenes  of  the  Last 
Commune — View  from  the  Place  de  1'Opera — An  In- 
stance of  Parisian  Enterprise — Rue  de  la  Paix  and  Col- 
umn Vendome — Gruesome  Reminders  of  Bloody  Events — 
Something  Distinctively  Parisian — Fragrance  Galore — A 
Paris  Mystery  —  Masks  and  Faces  —  Parisian  Shops  — 
Captivating  Window  Displays — Paris  Fashions  in  Dressed 
Meat — Sidewalk  Looking-glasses — A  Weakness  of  Well- 
dressed  Frenchmen — Parisian  Styles  in  Bill-posting — 
Something  Less  Commendable — America  on  the  Boule- 
vards—From Daylight  to  Dark — A  Change  of  Scene. 

Pages  40-48. 

IV. 

• 

THE  POOR  OF  PARIS. 

Transformation  in  a  Paris  Ball-room — A  Mothers'  Meeting, 
and  the  Contrasts  it  suggested — A  Reminder  of  Pre- 
revolutionary  Days— Life  among  the  Lowly — Sad  Lack 
of  Home  Comforts— A  Feature  of  Parisian  Markets — 
Observations  in  "Old  Paris" — Tenements  which  were 
formerly  Palaces — Narrow  Streets  and  Lofty  Stairways — 
Poverty  in  the  World's  Largest  Cities — An  Entertaining 
Talk — Good  Traits  of  Paris  Work-people— Where  the 
Communists  come  from— A  Paris  Workman's  Apart- 
ments—Indications of  Taste  and  Thrift — Another  Pa- 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  9 

risian  Interior — Love  laughing  ;it  Poverty — Pleasantly 
imposed  upon — A  Novel  Argument  for  Matrimony — The 
French  Marriage  Laws— Severe  Strictures  from  an  Intel- 
ligent Source — Two  Illustrative  Instances — The  Juvenile 
Contingent  of  "Old  Paris" — A  Converted  Absinthe- 
drinker,  ' Pages  49-59. 

V. 

PARIS  AND  ITS  SUBURBS. 

Fortifications  of  the  French  Capital— A  Tribute  from  Ger- 
man Officialism — The  Touch  of  Nature  which  makes 
Frenchmen  Akin  to  Americans— A  New  Title  to  Great- 
ness— Present  Uses  of  the  Gates  of  Paris — Troublesome 
Toll-collectors — The  Tax  on  Meat  and  Liquors — Ingen- 
ious Smugglers — Spirits  in  Coffins — Another  Instance  of 
French  Thrift— The  Suburbs  of  Paris— The  Contrast  they 
present  to  the  City  Itself — Paris  Superior  to  France — Pa- 
risian Railways — Chemin  de  fer  de  Ceinture  and  Chemin 
de  fer  de  Grande  Ceinture — Instances  of  Parisian  Back- 
wardness—Trams and  Busses — Advantages  of  the  Ticket 
System — A  Familiar  Sign — How  it  misled  an  Enterpris- 
ing Irishman — The  Parisian  Style  in  Horse-hair — Gray 
Horses  and  Strawberry  Blondes — Striking  Contradiction 
of  an  Old  Proverb — Parisian  Cabs — Further  Examples  of 
Parisian  Style, "...  Pages  60-68. 

VI. 
THE  STREETS  OF  PARIS. 

A  Perennial  Source  of  Pleasure — Paris  as  an  Example  to 
Other  Cities — A  Source  of  Annoyance— Paris  Flats— The 
Typical  Parisian  House — Distressing  Uniformity — Street 
Nomenclature  —  A  Present-day  Parisian  Mania  —  For 
Changed  Times,  Different  Names — How  the  Saints  are 
honored  in  a  Gay  City— Honors  to  Americans — Rue 
Washington  and  Rue  Lincoln — The  American  Colony  in 
Paris:  Its  Dimensions  and  Beautiful  Location — Ameri- 
can Churches  —  Two  Enterprising  Clergymen  —  Large 


10  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

Plans  and  Good  Work— Unique  Street  Effects— Rue  de 
Rivoli  and  Palais  Royal — Other  Characteristic  Localities — 
Boulevards  Voltaire,  Magenta,  Sevastopol,  and  Stras- 
bourg— Entrancing  Vistas — Avenue  de  la  Grande  Armee — 
How  Paris  still  honors  Germany — A  Boat-ride  on  the 
Seine — The  Wonderful  Panorama  it  reveals. 

Pages  69-76. 
VII. 
SOME  PARISIAN  NOVELTIES. 

The  World's  Shopping  Center — Of  Interest  to  Both  Sexes — 
The  Bon  Marche — The  Novelty  of  Fixed  Prices — Cus- 
tomers their  own  Cash-boys — A  Fortune  by  a  Fad — A 
Peddler's  Pack  and  its  Marvelous  Expansion— A  Tale 
worth  telling — Bounties  and  Pensions  for  Faithful  Em- 
ployees— Philanthropic  Recognition  of  a  Great  City's 
Confidence  and  Patronage — A  Novelty  in  Hospitals — The 
Famous  Pasteur  Institute — Encouraging  Progress— From 
Hospital  to  Church — The  Shrine  of  Our  Lady  of  Vic- 
tory—A Favorite  Resort  of  Ex-Empress  Eugenie — A 
Maze  of  Lighted  Candles — What  it  signifies— Memorials 
of  Answered  Prayers— Gratitude  in  Marble — By  Rail  to 
Ivry — Horse-flesh  as  an  Article  of  Food — Signs  of  Mer- 
cantile Honesty— A  Rag-pickers'  Citfe— Wages  of  Factor}' 
Hands — "What's  in  a  Name?" — A  Novelty  in  Tene- 
ments— Cite  Jeanne  d'Arc, Pages  77-86. 

VIII. 
BENEATH  THE  SURFACE  IN  PARIS. 

The  Topic  qualified  and  explained — Looking  for  the  Good 
in  a  Great  City — Paris  and  London  compared  morally — 
Heroic  Reformers — Young  Men  in  Paris — A  Great  Awak- 
ening— An  Importation  from  the  United  States— The 
Christian  Endeavor  Movement— A  Thriving  Y.  M.  C.  A. — 
A  Philanthropic  American — Student  life  in  Paris — Dark 
Features  and  Bright — A  Visit  to  the  Latin  Quarter — 
Moral  and  Religious  Activity — A  Counter-attraction  to 
the  Cafe— America  still  to  the  Front— The  McAll  Mis- 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  11 

sion — How  it  is  supported — An  Evangel  to  the  Poor — 
Unreasonable  Expectations — A  New  Departure  in  Mis- 
sion-work— Testimony  of  a  French  Official — Eloquent 
Statistics, Pages  87-95. 

IX. 
THE  FRENCH  REPUBLIC. 

Governmental  Kinship  between  France  and  the  United 
States — Sisters  or  Cousins:  Which? — Points  of  Resem- 
blance— The  Electoral  Franchise — A  Study  in  Govern- 
mental Anatomy — Points  of  Divergence— The  French 
Republic  and  the  British  Monarchy — The  French  Cabi- 
net— Privileges  of  Ministers — Chief  Occupation  of  Presi- 
dent Carnot  —  Presidential  Resignations  —  The  French 
Constitution:  Is  it  a  Misfit?— The  Veto  Power— Safe- 
guards against  Royalist  Plotters — Mode  of  electing  a 
President — Another  Divergence  from  American  Meth- 
ods—Where the  Two  Republics  are  Significantly  Alike — 
Great  Names  at  a  Discount — Changes  in  the  Ministry : 
Why  so  Frequent? — Political  Factions — The  Dread  of 
Despots — Salary  and  Duties  of  the  French  President — 
Republican  Magnificence  —  Presidential  Patronage  —  A 
Legacy  from  the  Empire, Pages  96-104. 

X. 

THE  LEGISLATIVE  SYSTEM. 

A  Glance  at  the  Past — Monarchists  and  the  Republic — The 
Two-chamber  Plan:  How  it  originated  and  how  it 
works — The  Chamber  of  Deputies— Characteristic  Traits 
and  Tendencies — Need  of  a  Constitutional  Check — The 
Average  French  Deputy — Fisticuffs  and  Dueling — The 
French  Senate — Qualifications  of  Senators — How  they 
are  elected — Life  Senators— A  Recent  Constitutional  Re- 
form— Relative  Powers  of  the  Two  Chambers— Custom 
encroaching  on  Law — Small  Salaries  and  Great  Tempta- 
tions— Organizing  for  Business — Taking  a  Vote — An  Im- 
posing Formality — Political  Promises :  A  New  Way  to 


12  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

get  rid  of  them — A  Suggestion  for  American  Congress 
men — Legislative  Independence — Greatest  Need  of  the 
French  Republic — Joint  Sessions  at  Versailles  -The  Pal 
ais  de  Luxembourg:  Its  History  and  Present  Use—The 
Palais  Bourbon  as  a  Legislative  Chamber. 

Pages  105-113. 
XI. 

COURTS  OF  LAW  IN  FRANCE. 

Imprints  of  a  Great  Genius — The  Code  Napoleon :  Its  Ori- 
gin, Scope,  and  Potency — Appointments  to  the  Judiciary— 
The  Ministry  of  Justice— The  Supreme  Court — Public 
Officials  in  France — Salaries  of  Judges — A  Striking  Con- 
trast with  England — Justice  at  Cheap  Kates — The  Other 
Side — Courts  of  the  First  Instance — Courts  of  Appeal— 
A  Peculiar  Feature  of  French  Courts— The  Parquet — 
Things  to  boast  of — Judges  vs.  Juries — Why  the  Former 
are  preferred— Light  on  a  Vexed  Problem — Some  Inter- 
esting Statistics — Extreme  Sentimentality  of  the  French 
Juryman  —  "  Mitigating  Circumstances  "  —  A  Weeping 
Court — Peculiarities  of  French  Judges — Hostility  toward 
the  Accused — Judicial  Dignity — At  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice— A  Sacred  Reminder — Court-room  Habitues — Justice 
for  the  Poor — Other  Commendable  Features. 

Pages  114-122. 
XII. 
THE  FRENCH  PRESS. 

The  Panama  Revelations — Queer  Newspaper  Methods — An 
Open  Claimant  for  Bribes — Astonishing  Immunity  from 
Punishment — Newspaper  Influence  for  Sale — Advertise- 
ments in  Editorials— Attitude  of  the  Government — A 
Well-known  Secret — Payments  for  Puffs — General  Re- 
marks on  French  Newspapers— One  Sense  in  which  Paris 
is  France  —  The  French  Press  judged  by  American 
Ideals — Classification  of  Parisian  Newspapers — Enterprise 
and  Freshness — A  Striking  Deficiency — Comparison  with 
English  Newspapers — Controlling  Principles — "  Like  Pub- 
lic, like  Press  " — Parisian  Tastes  and  how  they  are  met — 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  13 

The  Naked  Truth  and  the  Nude  in  Art — Publication  of 
Divorce  Proceedings  —  Laudable  Restrictions  —  Another 
Comparison  with  England — The  Staples  of  French  News- 
paper-reading—Personal  Responsibility  of  Editors — Earci- 
cal  Dueling — A  New-found  Freedom— The  French  Re- 
porter,    Pages  123-131. 

XIII. 
THE  FRENCH  PEASANTRY. 

Popular  Suppositions — A  Necessary  Correction — Extensive 
Subdivision  of  Land — How  it  originated — A  Legacy  from 
the  Distant  Past — Facts  and  Figures  examined — Farm- 
ing under  Difficulties — Comparison  of  Results  from  Large 
Holdings  and  Small — The  Peasant  Proprietor:  His  Con- 
dition Materially — The  French  Peasant  in  Contrast  with 
the  English — Recent  Improvements— Jacques  Bonhomme 
and  Honest  Hodge — Wages  of  French  Farm-hands — 
Peasant  Contentment — The  French  Peasant  as  a  Political 
Force — Why  he  changes  Sides  so  easily — Depopulation 
of  the  Rural  Districts — A  Comparison  with  Germany — 
The  Drift  toward  City  Life — The  Peasant  as  a  Renter — 
Peasant  Organizations  for  Mutual  Help — An  All-round 
Glance  at  Peasant  Life, Pages  132-140. 

XIV. 
FRENCH  HOME-LIFE. 

Significant  Limitations  of  the  French  Language — The  French 
Home  in  its  Material  Aspects — "Most  at  Home  when 
not  at  Home"— The  Formalities  of  Family  Life— The 
Patriarchal  Principle — A  Delightful  Experience — Honors 
to  Old  Age — Proverbial  Love  of  Mother — The  Family 
Feeling:  A  Far-reaching  Sentiment — Pathetic  Memorials 
in  French  Cemeteries  —  Unique  Funeral  Cards — The 
French  Home  in  its  Numerical  Aspects — A  National  Re- 
proach— Relative  Growth  of  Population  in  France,  Eng- 
land, and  Germany — Two  Instructive  Allusions — Thrift 

f     degenerating  into  Sordidness — Governmental  Bounties— 


14  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

Nurses  and  Babies  again — Other  Interesting  Family  Mat- 
ters— Growing  Girlhood:  How  it  is  guarded — The  French 
Chaperon — Strictures  from  an  Enlightened  Frenchman — 
French  Hospitality  —  Home-life  of  the  Peasantry- 
Woman's  Rights— Some  Peculiar  Laws,  .  .  Pages  141-151. 

XV. 

THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM. 

Progress  under  the  Republic — French  Education  classified — 
Striking  Instances  of  Development — Public  Lycees  for 
Girls  —  Secondary  Education  —  What  it  embraces  and 
what  it  costs — Generous  Distribution  of  Scholarships — 
State  Control  of  Degrees— Church  and  State  in  Fierce 
Conflict — The  Government  Triumphant— Qualifications 
of  Teachers — Sweeping  Reforms — The  Teaching  of  Re- 
ligion— Sensible  Attitude  of  the  French  Government — 
Higher  Education— The  University  of  France — Paris  as 
an  Educational  Center — The  Catholics  and  the  Uni- 
versity— Protestant  Faculties  of  Theology — Discipline  in 
Lycees  and  Colleges —Strict  Surveillance  of  Pupils — Ef- 
feminate Boys  and  Demure  Girls — A  System  of  Seclusion 
and  Repression — Hard  Life  of  the  French  School  Miss — 
Women  and  University  Training — The  Primary  Schools — 
Laws  governing  them — Separation  of  the  Sexes — Com- 
pulsory Attendance  and  how  enforced — The  School  and 
the  Flag— An  Encouraging  Outlook,  .  .  .  Pages  152-161. 

XVI. 
MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS. 

The  Preliminaries  of  Wedlock  —  Delightful  Experiences 
ruthlessly  dispensed  with — Popping  the  Question — How 
it  is  not  done  in  France — Love-making  under  Difficulties — 
Single  Blessedness  in  France — Commonness  of  Celibacy — 
"  The  Matrimonial  Market  "—A  Mania  for  Dowries— The 
Luckless  Lot  of  a  Girl  without  a  Dot — A  Plausible 
Explanation  —  Customs  which  stimulate  Thrift  —  The 
Dowry  after  Wedlock — Some  Distressing  Results — Can- 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  15 

didates  for  Matrimony :  How  they  proceed — A  Matter 
of  Business — Premature  Betrothals — A  Schedule  of  Al- 
lowable Familiarities  —  An  Interesting  Query  —  Love 
laughing  at  Custom — Marriage  and  the  Civil  Law — From 
the  Mayor's  Office  to  Church — The  Wedding  Ceremony 
and  the  Collection-box, Pages  162-170. 

XVII. 
MATTERS  OF  TASTE. 

The  French  as  Conquerors — An  Enviable  Monopoly — Fancy 
exceeded  by  Reality — Living  to  eat — New  Use  of  an  Old 
Simile — A  Deceiving  Meal  Schedule — A  French  Assault 
on  the  Dinner-table — A  Charge  of  Gourmandism — The 
Opinion  of  a  Friendly  Critic — The  French  Chef  in  his 
Element — Some  French  Delicacies — The  Catch-all  of  the 
French  Kitchen — Public  Drinking  in  France — Cafe  Life — 
Favorite  Pastime  of  the  Average  Parisian — The  Popular 
Love  of  Wine — Women  as  Wine-drinkers — French  and 
English  Women  in  Contrast — Immoderate  Moderation — 
A  Change  for  the  Worse — The  Consumption  of  Alcohol 
in  Different  Provinces  —  A  Diminished  Wine-crop  — 
Alarming  Spread  of  Drunkenness — Police  Court  Statis" 
tics — Absinthe  and  Eau  de  Vie— Increased  Indulgence 
and  Deadly  Consequences — Testimony  from  a  Competent 
Witness — A  Gratifying  Discovery — The  Blue  Cross  Tem- 
perance Society — Statistics  of  Progress,  .  .  Pages  171-183. 

XVIII. 
CHURCH  AND  STATE. 

Roman  Catholicism  and  the  French  Government — A  Fa- 
mous Encyclical — Attitude  of  the  Church  toward  the 
Republic— The  Recent  Change — President  Carnot  and 
Leo  XIII — Implacable  Nobles — The  Pope  and  Panama — 
Limitations  of  a  Papal  Edict — What  Protestants  say — A 
Question  of  Motives — Self-inflicted  Martyrdom — Expul- 
sion of  the  Jesuits — Confiscation  of  Church  Lands — Eng- 


16  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

lish  Critics  worthily  answered— Crosses  on  Cemetery 
Gates— Suppression  of  Unauthorized  Brotherhoods — The 
Republic  righting  for  its  Life  —  Suicide  as  Evidence 
of  Guilt— Catholicism  and  the  Public  Schools — Equal 
Rights  granted,  but  Ascendency  denied — Attitude  of  the 
Republic  toward  Religion — State  Aid  for  Catholics,  Prot- 
estants, Jews,  and  Mohammedans— State  Control:  How 
exercised  —  Voting  Supplies  —  Glance  at  the  Annual 
Budget — A  Significant  Situation — Where  the  Catholic 
Church  has  failed — The  Church  and  the  Peasantry — 
Prevalent  Skepticism  —  Opposition  of  the  Church  to 
Wholesome  Reforms — What  Frenchmen  themselves  say. 

Pages  184-193. 

XIX. 

FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM. 

Numerical  Strength  of  French  Protestantism — How  it  is  di-* 
vided— Protestantism  and  State  Aid — Religious  Equality 
under  the  Republic — An  Outspoken  Clergyman — Influ- 
ence wielded  by  French  Protestantism — Protestants  in 
Public  Office— Illustrious  Protestant  Names — Relative 
Influence  of  Protestants  and  Catholics — Views  of  an 
American  Priest — A  Tribute  from  President  Carnot — 
Protestants  and  the  Republic — Pathetic  Revelations — A 
Bloody  History  recalled — Where  Protestantism  is  Su- 
preme—Department of  the  Gard — Some  Striking  Facts — 
Protestantism  at  its  Best — Protestantism  under  Napo- 
leon III — Protestant  Newspapers — Protestant  Losses  in 
1871— Feeling  of  French  Protestants  toward  Germany — 
The  Question  of  Disestablishment — Threats  of  the  Rad- 
icals— The  Calm  View  of  a  French  Pastor — The  Peasant 
as  a  Possible  Revolutionist — After  Disestablishment, 
What? — A  Beautiful  Ideal — Preparing  for  the  Worst- 
Evangelicalism  and  Rationalism — A  Glance  at  the  Past — 
Present  Conditions— Open  Doors  of  Opportunity — An 
Active  Campaign— Gains  from  Catholicism — An  Appeal 
for  Help Pages  194-205. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  17 

xx. 

THE  CONTINENTAL  SUNDAY. 

A  Live  Topic  in  Europe — Opposite  Trends  in  Europe  and 
America — A  New  Putting  of  the  Sunday  Question — Mis- 
taken Notions  corrected — Americans  Abroad— Gratifying 
Advances — A  Glance  at  Berlin— Professor  von  Treitschke 
on  the  American  Sunday — German  Opposition  to  Sun- 
day Labor — Stringent  Laws— The  Present  Situation — Sab- 
bath-keeping in  the  German  Capital — A  Working  class 
Movement — Wholesome  Sop  for  Social  Democrats — On 
to  Paris — Growth  of  Sentiment  in  the  French  Capi- 
tal— A  Sunday  Observance  Society — Two  Eloquent  Re- 
formers :  Jules  Simon  and  Leon  Say — A  Statement  of 
Principles — Some  Practical  Results — Paris  on  Sunday — 
Signs  of  Progress — A  Scandalous  Fallacy — Reforms  in 
the  Railway  and  Postal  Service — Paris  as  a  Rival  of  Sab- 
bath-keeping London — The  Sunday  Question  and  the 
Churches, Pages  206-214. 

XXI. 

FRENCH  HOLIDAY-MAKING. 

The  French  as  Extremists— Where  the  Catholic  Church  is 
Still  Supreme — Bank  Holidays  in  France — Feast  of  the 
Assumption :  How  it  is  observed — All  Saints  and  All 
Souls — At  Pere  la  Chaise — The  French  Decoration-day — 
Merry  Christmas — Realistic  Art  in  the  Churches — The 
Midnight  Mass — A  Tax  on  Solemnity — Christmas  at  St. 
Roche's — Santa  Glaus  at  a  Discount — French  Anglo- 
maniacs  —  New  Year's  in  France  —  Expositions  des 
Etrennes — Costly  Bonbons  and  Ravishing  Dolls — Trans- 
formation of  the  Great  Boulevards — Baraques  du  Jour  de 
1'an— The  Rage  of  the  Hour— New  Year's  Gifts— The 
Exchange  of  Visiting-cards — Busy  Times  in  Postal  Cir- 
cles— The  Concierge  and  his  Exactions — Remembering 
the  Poor — New  Year's  at  the  Palais  Elysee — Turkey  and 
Truffles— The  New  Year  and  the  Peasantry. 

Pages  215-223 
2 


18  TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 

XXII. 
POVERTY  AND  WEALTH. 

Material  Condition  of  the  French  Nation — Indications  of 
Abounding  Wealth  —  Number  of  House-owners  and 
Landed  Proprietors— Where  France  stands  Unrivaled — 
Solvency  of  the  French  Government — Proofs  of  Popular 
Confidence — The  Country  Folk  on  Dividend-day — An 
Inspiring  Procession — The  Eiflel  Tower — Frenrh  En- 
gineering paralleled  by  French  Thrift — The  Postal  Sav- 
ings Bank:  Its  Wonderful  Development  and  Present 
Status — Figures  from'an  Unbiased  Source— Report  of  the 
United  States  Consul  at  Bordeaux — Material  Growth  in 
Twenty  Years — The  Reverse  Side— A  Mammoth  National 
Debt — How  it  has  increased  under  the  Republic — Com- 
parison of  France  with  Other  Nations— What  will  the  End 
be? — A  Predicted  Collapse— Financial  Genius  which  in- 
spires Hope — The  Problem  of  Poverty — France  and 
England  again — The  Assistance  Publique — flow  it  is 
supported  and  administered — Novel  Methods  of  Taxation. 

Pages  224-231. 
XXIII.  * 
THE  WAR-CLOUD. 

Military  Affairs  in  Europe — Explanation  of  the  Periodical 
War-scare — A  Question  of  Environment — Difference  be- 
tween France  and  the  United  States — Significant  Fig- 
ures— A  Century's  Tribute  to  European  Battle-fields — 
"They  all  do  it" — Preparations  for  War:  Are  they  a 
Guaranty  of  Peace  ? — Superficial  Safeguards — France  the 
Arbiter  of  its  Own  Fortunes — Restiveness  of  the  French 
under  Defeat— National  Feeling  against  Germany — French 
Sentiment  and  French  Dismemberment — The  Ironical 
Congratulations  of  a  Russian  Diplomat — An  Unfinished 
Inscription — A  Rhetorical  Invasion — Count  von  Caprivi 
puts  his  Foot  in  it — The  French  View  of  a  Famous 
Speech — Strange  Bedfellows — The  Republican  Lamb  and 
the  Russian  Bear — France  as  a  Military  Camp — Physique 
of  French  Soldiers— The  Next  War  and  its  Probable  Ef- 
fects on  the  Republic, Pages  232-240. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS.  19 

XXIV. 
CONTRASTS  AND  CONCLUSIONS. 

A  Bundle  of  Contradictions — The  Most  Interesting  Nation- 
ality in  Europe — Lights  and  Shadows  in  French  Life — 
Craving  what  they  Scorn— Striking  Religious  Traits— How 
Extremes  meet  in  French  Femininity — In  the  Social 
Realm — Household  Attachments  and  Cafe-life— Startling 
Divorce  Statistics— French  Politeness  and  its  Opposite — 
Kissing  and  Dueling— "  Only  One  Paris" — City  Gayety 
and  Country  Dullness — The  Worship  and  Oppression  of 
Womanhood — Serious  Defects  in  French  Law — A  Dark 
Social  Blot — Where  Sentiment  and  Practice  are  at  Vari- 
ance— In  the  Political  Realm — A  Loud  Call  for  Charity — 
Aristocracy  vs.  Democracy — Sham  Nobles — The  Legion  of 
Honor — Two  Contradictory  Occurrences— The  Love  of 
Glory — Great  Leaders  needed— Liberty  and  Equality 
with  Reservations — Where  Danger  lurks. 

Pages  241-249. 


IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 


PARIS  AND  LONDON. 

IN  comparing  Paris  Avith  London  the  opinion  grows 
upon  us  that  the  capital  of  the  British  Empire  is 
far  in  the  lead  of  the  French  capital  in  the  things 
which  tend  to  security  and  national  greatness.  To  speak 
generally,  London  is  the  business  city  and  Paris  the 
pleasure  city  of  the  world.  To  spend  money,  one  should 
certainly  come  to  the  city  on  the  Seine ;  but  if  a  center 
for  safe  investments  were  desired,  preference  would 
surely  be  given  to  the  city  on  the  Thames.  There  is 
nothing  in  Paris  that  inspires  such  confidence  as  one 
feels  in  looking  at  the  Bank  of  England,  and  no  doubt 
the  Parisians  are  thankful  not  to  have  in  their  midst  a 
pile  so  unsightly.  They  would  hardly  accept  it  for  the 
money  it  contains.  Far  more  to  Parisian  taste  is  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe,  with  its  vast  circular  Place  de  1'Etoile, 
and  the  round  dozen  of  magnificent  avenues  which  slope 
therefrom  into  all  parts  of  this  wonderful  city.  The 
English  capital  has  nothing  to  compare  to  this;  and, 

on  the  other  hand,  Paris  has  nothing  so  grand  in  the 
21 


22  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

way  of  churches — nothing  that  is  so  large,  or  that  in- 
vites so  much  reverence — as  either  St.  Paul's  or  West- 
minster Abbey.  The  Palais  Bourbon,  in  which  the 
French  laws  are  made,  is  insignificant  when  you  recall 
the  British  Houses  of  Parliament. 

In  this  city  the  biggest  tides  [of  traffic  are  found, 
not,  as  in  London,  where  the  representatives  of  a  mighty 
commerce  congregate,  but  on  avenues  where  fashion 
disports  itself,  like  the  Avenue  de  Champs  Elysees,  the 
Boulevard  des  Italiens,  and  that  still  wider  and  grander 
thoroughfare  leading  to  the  Bois  de  Bologue.  And  all 
these  things  are  in  keeping  with  the  proverbial  notion 
of  the  two  places:  London  for  commerce,  Paris  for 
gayety;  London  as  the  capital  of  a  nation  with  a  sure 
future,  Paris  as  the  city  which — regardless  of  what  the 
future  may  bring — is  bent  on  having  a  good  time  right 
now. 

In  many  things,  of  course,  the  two  largest  cities  in 
the  world  are  alike.  Paris,  though  it  is  so  gay,  has  a 
darker  side;  and  if  one  had  time  to  hunt  up  its  mis- 
eries, we  should  probably  find  that  the  struggle  of  life 
is  just  as  real  and  quite  as  hard  for  the  masses,  notwith- 
standing their  bright  surroundings,  as  that  which  goes 
on  under  the  gloomy  skies  and  amid  the  somber  build- 
ings of  the  big  city  across  the  channel.  Knowing  of 
our  purpose  to  write,  an  intelligent  Parisian  lady  said 
to  us:  "Whatever  you  do,  don't  say  we  are  all  happy." 
No,  the  people  are  not  all  happy.  There  is  pinching 


PARIS  AND  LONDON.  23 

want  here  as  elsewhere,  and  it  would  perhaps  be  diffi- 
cult to  find  any  city  in  which  the  lower  classes  are  so 
little  contented.  It  is  the  knowledge  of  this  that  makes 
thoughtful  Frenchmen  shrug  their  shoulders  with  such 
a  manifest  spasm  of  apprehension  when  you  ask  as  to 
the  likelihood  of  another  rising  of  the  Commune.  It  is 
this  which  makes  Paris  so  panicky  after  an  explosion  of 
dynamite,  and  which  renders  it  almost  certain  that  two 
such  explosions  in  quick  succession  would  shake  out  of 
their  seats,  so  to  speak,  any  existing  Ministry. 

But  whether  they  are  better  off  or  not,  and  spite  of  the 
mischief  they  may  again  cause,  the  lower  classes  of  Paris 
certainly  present  a  more  tidy  appearance  than  the  same 
classes  in  London,  and  in  their  out-door  life  they  seem 
to  be  more  civil  and  better  behaved.  It  is  seldom  you 
see  rags  and  tatters;  and  to  find  here  such  besotted  and 
brutal-looking  creatures  as  you  can  see  all  the  time  on 
the  streets  of  London,  you  would  surely  have  to  search 
the  slums  with  that  special  object  in  view,  and  even 
then  you  might  look  in  vain.  There  is  more  general 
drinking  than  in  London,  but  far  less  drunkenness.  The 
cafes  are  numerous  enough  and  sufficiently  obtrusive,  as 
every  visitor  well  knows,  but  they  are  hardly  so  vicious- 
looking  as  the  public  houses  in  the  world's  metropolis. 
Perhaps  their  very  openness  is  a  means  of  restraint. 
Certainly  they  turn  out  inebriates  at  a  less  rapid  rate, 
and  their  victims,  moreover,  are  of  a  type  much  less 
repulsive. 


24  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

After  a  month  or  so  amid  the  unvarying  stretches 
of  high  stone  dwellings,  all  built  upon  the  same  general 
plan  and  nearly  all  seeming  to  be  adorned  still  with  the 
dew  and  brightness  of  their  youth,  the  visitor  grows 
weary  of  this  architectural  monotony.  One  can  not 
help  wondering  why,  in  this  city  of  art,  this  particular 
department  of  art  should  have  had  so  little  variety  in- 
fused into  it.  London  is  much  blacker  than  Paris,  and 
some  of  its  buildings  are  hideous  monstrosities,  but  in 
the  charm  which  diversity  gives,  it  far  excels  its  French 
rival.  No  one  would  suspect  London  of  being  a  city 
without  a  past,  for  its  hoary  history  is  proclaimed  wher- 
ever you  go  by  frowning,  time-worn  edifices,  which  speak 
unmistakably  of  ages  long  gone,  and  of  the  gradual 
progress  through  those  ages  of  the  arts  and  forces  by 
which  great  centers  of  life  are  built  up.  Paris  has 
some  such  memorials  as  these;  but  the  impression  upon 
the  casual  visitor  must  be  that  it  is  a  city  of  to-day, 
quite  too  new  to  be  venerable,  and  built  on  quite  too 
uniform  a  plan  to  challenge  unqualified  admiration.  It 
is  beautiful,  but  one  grows  tired  of  seeing  so  much 
beauty  cast  in  the  same  pattern.  The  American  visitor 
will  hardly  sympathize  with  that  Londoner  whose  chief 
complaint  about  Paris  was,  that  its  high  buildings  were 
unfavorable  for  such  a  display  of  chimney-tops  as  he 
had  been  used  to  at  home.  But  he  will  surely  wish 
that  the  houses  about  him  were  not  all  so  high;  and 
after  a  little  experience  in  getting  to  fifth  and  sixth 


PARIS   AND    LONDON.  25 

floors,  with  elevators  as  few  and  far  between  as  angels' 
visits,  his  feelings  on  this  subject  will  become  quite  too 
full  for  utterance. 

For  long  vistas,  with  trees  of  uniform  height,  and 
stately  buildings  whose  white  fronts  gleam  in  the  sun- 
light, and  for  such  effects  as  one  can  see  in  the  Place 
de  la  Concorde,  with  the  Louvre  behind,  the  mighty 
Arc  de  Triomphe  looming  up  in  front,  the  Madeleine  to 
your  right,  and  the  gilded  dome  'neath  which  the  great 
Bonaparte  rests  on  the  other  side  of  the  Seine — the 
Eiffel  Tower  also  being  near  enough  to  be  seen  to  good 
advantage, — for  such  things  as  these,  Paris  has  no  equal 
nor  rival.  The  Circuses  at  which  the  thoroughfares  of 
London  converge  are  as  mere  bagatelle  pockets  in  con- 
trast with  the  grand  Places  abounding  in  Paris.  The 
only  American  city  which  gives  substantial  promise  of 
ever  competing  with  the  capital  of  France  in  broad 
avenues  and  magnificent  distances  is  the  city  of  Wash- 
ington. After  night  Paris,  in  the  scene  of  light  and 
change  it  presents,  is  like  fairyland.  To  look  at  the 
long  rows  of  street-lamps,  so  much  nearer  together  than 
in  other  cities,  which,  in  many  places,  owing  to  the 
length  of  the  streets  and  boulevards,  stretch  their  lines 
of  beauty  so  far  away  from  you  that  the  two  opposite 
sides  seem  at  the  farther  end  to  come  together,  and 
finally  to  lose  themselves  in  the  midst  of  the  clustering 
lights  of  some  vast  circular  Place — to  see  a  sight  like 
this,  as  you  can  a  dozen  times  over  in  Paris,  is  simply 


26  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

enchanting.  If  this  city  is  beautiful  by  daylight,  she  is 
dazzling  and  almost  bewildering  by  night;  and  to  feel 
this,  one  need  not  have  the  least  share  in  the  mad 
whirl  of  life  which  goes  on.  You  need  only  take  a  cab, 
or  view  the  scene  from  the  top  of  an  omnibus. 

Which  reminds  us,  by  the  way,  that  Paris  and  Lon- 
don differ  materially  in  their  vehicular  service.  The 
London  "hansom"  is  conspicuous  here  by  its  rarity. 
The  cabs  you  find  in  Paris  are  four-wheelers,  and  this 
difference  makes  a  decided  change  in  the  aspect  of  the 
streets.  One  would  think  that  to  put  the  driver  im- 
mediately behind  the  horse,  instead  of  perching  him  on 
a  box  behind  and  above  his  fare,  would  conduce  to 
better  driving,  and  hence  to  the  greater  security  of 
those  having  to  dodge  these  vehicles  in  crossing  the 
streets;  but  it  does  n-'t,  by  any  means.  The  Parisian 
cabby  drives  with  a  loose  rein,  and  with  a  very  lax  re- 
gard for  the  rights  of  the  general  public.  His  heavy 
shoes,  almost  like  clogs,  his  shiny  hat,  painted  so  as  to 
have  a  remote  resemblance  to  a  genuine  silk,  and  the 
decided  penchant  he  shows  for  flourishing  and  cracking 
his  whip, — make  him  altogether  a  louder  and  more  dis- 
agreeable type  than  the  same  species  in  London.  But 
he  charges  you  very  moderately.  For  thirty  cents,  with 
the  inevitable  fee  added,  he  will  take  you  any  distance 
within  the  city,  providing  the  journey  is  not  broken. 
This  is  the  uniform  charge.  In  London  you  have  a 
slight  advantage  if  your  ride  is  within  the  mile,  but 


PARIS    AND    LONDON.  .        27 

one  seldom  wants  a  cab  for  so  short  a  distance  as  that; 
and  in  Paris  you  can.  ride  .four,  five,  or  even  six  miles 
for  less  than  the  ordinary  rate  of  a  two-mile  ride  in  the 
metropolis  of  Great  Britain. 

By  the  hour,  the  cab  fare  is  forty  cents.  This  is 
extremely  moderate;  and  so  also,  under  this  system  of 
hiring,  will  be  the  rate  of  your  progress  through  the 
Parisian  streets.  The  cab  horses  here  are  altogether  in- 
ferior to  those  of  London.  However  slow  the  English 
themselves  may  be,  they  like  their  horses  to  make  good 
time;  and  the  London  cabman  is  no  exception  to  this 
rule.  Here,  it  is  the  people  who  are  fast;  the  horses — 
certainly  the  cab  horses — are  very  slow.  They  are  slow 
enough  under  any  circumstances ;  but  it  is  a  proverb 
with  all  visitors  that  if,  in  making  a  bargain  with  cabby, 
you  say,  "By  the  hour,"  his  horse  is  sure  to  understand, 
whether  you  speak  in  French  or  English.  We  have 
heard  of  one  man  who  distinguished  himself  and  ob- 
tained several  medals  by  stopping  runaway  cab-horses. 
He  seemed  to  know  just  what  to  do,  and  when  his 
secret  transpired,  it  turned  out  that  he  checked  the 
mad  career  of  these  fiery  steeds  simply  by  shouting,  as 
he  pulled  at  the  bridle,  "By  the  hour!"  After  that, 
the  gallop  degenerated  into  a  walk  from  sheer  force  of 
habit. 

From  the  ponderous,  clumsy-looking  policemen  of 
London  to  the  petit  guardian  of  the  peace  in  Paris,  the 
change  is  quite  welcome  to  the  eye,  although  we  can 


28  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

not  help  thinking  that  the  former  looks  the  more  busi- 
ness-like of  the  two.  Instead  of  a  club,  the  Frenchman 
has  a  sword  dangling  from  his  belt.  This,  with  his 
high-legged  boots,  with  the  cap  or  cockade  he  wears, 
and  with  the  cape,  having  a  hood  attached  to  it,  which 
hangs  loosely  from  his  shoulders,  gives  him  more  the 
appearance  of  a  military  man  out  for  a  saunter,  than 
of  one  whose  presence  should  be  a  terror  to  misdemean- 
ants. But  he  is  very  nice  to  look  at,  and  that  seems  to 
be  the  principal  thing  in  Paris.  Everything  here  ap- 
peals to  the  eye.  Even  the  dogs  must  be  pretty,  and 
many  of  them  are  very  pretty  indeed.  The  English 
pug  is  eschewed  as  a  companion  for  French  ladies — 
partly,  no  doubt,  because  he  is  English,  and  partly  be- 
cause he  is  so  outrageously  repulsive.  The  fashion  in 
canines  runs  to  French  poodles — a  fuzzy,  innocent  sort 
of  dog;  and  it  is  all  the  style  to  have  part  of  the  fuzz 
shaved  off — the  hinder  part, — a  fancy  which,  besides  add- 
ing to  the  novelty  of  the  dog's  appearance,  keeps  in 
good  circumstances,  it  is  said,  quite  a  number  of  people 
who  are  known  professionally  as  dog-barbers. 

The  fashions  in  masculine  attire  are  not  so  uniform 
here  as  in  London.  In  silk  hats,  one  sees  all  sorts  of 
shapes,  and  the  strangest  shapes  seem  to  be  most  in 
vogue.  The  aim  of  the  Parisian  swell  seems  to  be,  not 
to  conform  perfectly  to  any  set  code,  but  rather  to  defy 
the  codes,  and  get  himself  up  as  picturesquely  as  pos- 
sible. Paris  does  not  smoke  so  much  as  London,  either 


PARIS  AND  LONDON.  29 

from  its  chimney-tops  or  from  beneath  its  top  hats. 
Parisian  ladies  have  better  complexions  than  the  Eng- 
lish, and  better  forms;  but  in  sitting  in  judgment  upon 
such  matters  as  these,  one  has  to  remember  that  Paris 
is  more  a  city  of  art  than  London  is.  We  have  also 
observed  that  Parisian  women  carry  themselves  with 
more  grace  when  walking  than  the  English;  and  as  this 
is  a  matter  which  can  have  no  connection  with  toilet 
mysteries,  we  need  not  hesitate  in  saying  which  of  the 
two  styles  we  prefer. 

Babies  are  less  numerous  here  than  in  London,  but 
those  you  see  are  remarkably  pretty.  So  are  the  nurses 
who  carry  them — at  least,  in  their  style  of  dress.  They 
wear,  in  the  autumn,  long,  circular  cloaks,  and  from 
their  dainty  silk  caps  long  streamers  of  some  fashionable 
shade  of  ribbon  extend  the  whole  length  of  their  attire. 
Usually  the  mother  is  near,  and  we  have  noticed  many 
instances  in  which  the  shade  of  ribbon  worn  by  the 
nurse  has  some  match  in  the  bonnet  of  this  Parisian 
dame.  If  not  in  the  bonnet,  then  you  may  look  for  a 
match  at  the  waist  in  the  form  of  a  sash,  or  perhaps  in 
the  shade  of  the  proud  mamma's  bodice.  Talk  of 
fashion,  you  have  to  be  in  Paris  to  know  fully  what  it 
means,  and  the  excesses  to  which  it  may  run!  Fancy 
these  fascinating  creatures  trimming  their  petticoats  in 
strict  conformity  with  the  style  and  shade  of  the  hats 
they  may  happen  to  wear !  But  many  of  them  do  this, 
and  it  seems  to  be  the  fashion  for  well-dressed  women 


30  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

to  have  the  bottoms  of  their  petticoats  as  much  in  evi- 
dence on  the  streets  as  the  trimming  of  their  head-wear. 
But  this  is  running  beauty  into  the  ground,  or  very 
near  to  it,  and  for  the  present  we  dismiss  the  subject. 


II. 

AMERICANS  IN  PARIS. 

THE  number  of  American  students  who  are  round- 
ing off  their  artistic  training  in  Paris  is  variously 
estimated  to  be  from  1,500  to  2,000.  Many  come  here 
to  perfect  themselves  in  the  French  language,  and  as 
most  of  these  have  a  teaching  career  in  view,  they  are 
wise  in  getting  their  knowledge  of  French  from  the 
French  people.  For  practical  purposes,  this  is  the  only 
way  in  which  the  language  can  be  acquired.  Lessons 
are  very  cheap.  You  can  get  good  teaching  in  private 
for  a  few  dollars  a  week,  and  in  classes  for  a  few  francs ; 
and,  of  course,  the  great  advantage  of  being  in  Paris 
is  that,  while  you  are  finishing  off  in  the  theory,  you 
can  confirm  yourself  in  what  you  learn  by  daily  prac- 
tice in  the  school  of  experience. 

Another  contingent  of  the  American  art  colony  is 
that  which  has  a  musical  career  before  it.  With  these 
it  is  a  proverb  that,  up  to  a  certain  point,  New  York 
affords  as  good  instruction  for  the  singer  as  any  Conti- 
nental city,  but  that  beyond  that  poiut  the  best  results 
can  be  obtained  only  in  Paris.  To  speak  as  the  stu- 
dents themselves  do,  the  final  difference  between  Paris 
and  New  York  is  the  difference  between  a  voice  worth 

a  hundred  dollars  a  night  and  the  same  voice  rounded 

31 


32  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

out  into  dimensions  and  capabilities  which  make  it  worth 
twice  that  sum.  Perhaps,  though,  this  doubling  of  it 
marketable  value  is  due  less  to  any  new  quality  of  the 
voice  itself  than  to  the  prestige  one  acquires  from  hav- 
ing studied  abroad.  Lessons  in  singing  are  much  more 
costly  than  those  in  language.  The  great  teachers  ot 
vocalism  charge  five  dollars  to  be  troubled  with  you  for 
only  half  an  hour.  This,  however,  is  little,  if  any,  in 
excess  of  the  highest  New  York  figures;  and  were  it 
not  for  the  outside  expenses,  the  outlay  might  not  be  a 
bad  investment.  But  singers  have  to  live  better  than 
other  students.  The  first  requisite  is  prime  physical 
health,  and  this  means  good  apartments  and  a  good 
table — things  which,  in  Paris,  cost  a  lot  of  money.  An 
acquaintance,  who  is  having  a  practical  experience  of 
all  this,  estimates  that  his  half-hour  lessons  at  five  dol- 
lars, three  a  week,  are  costing  him  altogether,  including 
his  tickets  from  home  and  back,  about  twenty-five  dol- 
lars apiece. 

There  are  a  number  of  young  Americans  studying 
architecture  over  here,  and  a  few  carving  out  an  educa- 
tion in  sculpture ;  but  the  majority  are  novitiates  of  the 
brush  and  easel.  The  latter  find  in  Paris  facilities 
which  are  unsurpassed,  and  are  afforded  the  best  pos- 
sible teaching  for  the  lowest  imaginable  outlay.  There 
are  two  things  which  these  budding  American  geniuses 
never  tire  of  extolling.  One  is  the  substantial  patron- 
age given  to  art  by  the  French  Government,  and  the 


AMERICANS  IN  PARIS.  33 

other  is  the  fact  that  the  French  masters  are  so  generous 
toward  students  from  other  nations.  There  is  nothing 
national  about  French  painting  except  the  glory  and 
the  pecuniary  profits  of  it.  Her  schools  and  studios  are 
open  to  the  world,  and,  with  only  a  few  exceptions,  the 
prizes  of  her  grand  salon  are  as  accessible  to  foreign 
genius  as  that  of  her  own  sons.  Americans  seem  to  be 
accorded  a  special  welcome  to  the  artistic  opportunities 
offered  here,  and  one  can  not  be  long  in  a  company  of 
American  artists  or  art  students  without  learning  that 
this  gracious  predilection  is  gratefully  and  even  enthusi- 
astically reciprocated. 

There  are  three  courses  open  to  the  art  student  in 
Paris.  He  may  connect  himself  with  a  private  school, 
of  which  the  city  boasts  many  which  are  excellent;  or, 
he  may  obtain  admission,  if  he  can,  to  the  Ecole  des 
Beaux  Arts;  or,  again,  he  may  do  both,  if  he  choose,  at 
the  same  time.  The  American  student  generally  in- 
clines to  the  first  of  these,  and  you  will  oftener  than 
not  find  him  attached  to  one  of  the  popular  Julian 
schools,  of  which  there  are  several  in  different  parts  of 
the  city  for  both  sexes.  Under  this  system  a  work-room 
is  afforded  him,  in  which  he  can  ply  his  profession  for  a 
certain  number  of  hours  every  day,  and  where,  twice  a 
week,  he  will  have  the  benefit  of  the  best  artistic  criti- 
cism— all  for  an  outlay  of  about  five  dollars  a  month. 
The  mode  of  entry  into  the  Beaux  Arts  is,  to  exhibit 
one's  drawings  to  some  professor.  If  the  view  is  satis- 


34  IN  SUNNY  FRAXCK. 

factory,  you  are  installed  as  an  "aspirant,"  or  person 
on  trial.  Then,  your  progress  being  what  it  should, 
you  are  promoted  gradually  from  the  Antique  to  the 
Atelier,  and  become  eligible,  in  due  course,  to  compete 
for  distinguished  honors  and  large  premiums.  The  cost 
for  all  this  is  nothing.  Once  a  year  the  classes  give  a 
dinner  to  their  professors.  The  student  will,  of  course, 
subscribe  to  that;  but  as  he  will  probably,  in  a  six 
months'  residence,  have  acquired  some  of  the  French 
propensity  for  gormandizing,  he  will  look  upon  this  out- 
lay as  being  less  a  recompense  to  his  teacher  than  a 
treat  to  himself. 

A  curious  fact  about  art  students  is  that,  in  private 
schools,  aspirants  of  the  female  sex  are  charged  nearly 
double  the  fee  exacted  from  young  men.  Still  more 
curious  is  the  reason  assigned  for  this.  French  pro- 
fessors, it  is  said,  do  not  like  to  criticise  the  work  of 
women,  and  because  the  task  is  a  disagreeable  one,  they 
demand  better  pay  for  performing  it.  Here  is  an  in- 
stance in  which  the  proverbial  gallantry  of  the  French 
character  pays.  Certainly  it  pays  the  professors;  though, 
when  one  remembers  how  much  these  gentlemen  do 
solely  from  the  love  of  art,  and  how  low  comparatively 
are  their  very  highest  demands  for  tribute,  it  is  impos- 
sible to  be  severe  upon  them.  None  the  less,  it  seems 
a  pity  that  the  Frenchman's  reverence  for  woman  should 
work  in  this  way  to  her  disadvantage. 

Speaking  of  the  ladies,  one  can   not  help  admiring 


AMERICANS  IN  PARIS.  35 

the  good  work  being  done  for  American  students  of  that 
sex  by  the  Rev.  W.  R.  Newell  and  his  wife.  The  be- 
ginning of  this  good  work  was  in  little  informal  gather- 
ings, on  Sabbath  evenings,  within  the  domicile  of  this 
worthy  couple,  and  its  existing  dimensions  are  seen  in 
the  suite  of  rooms — something  in  the  nature  of  club- 
rooms — maintained  for  our  fair  compatriots,  at  19  Rue 
Vevin.  The  moneyed  power  behind  this  enterprise  is 
Mrs.  Whitelaw  Reid;  but  the  originators  and  the  real 
sustainers  of  it  are  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Newell.  The  rooms 
are  open  all  day ;  and  many  are  the  American  girls  who, 
worn  out  with  hard  work  and  made  homesick  by  their 
disappointments,  seek  occasional  asylum  and  refresh- 
ment within  them.  Good  reading  is  afforded,  with  no 
end  of  kind  sympathy  and  good  advice.  Every  even- 
ing tea  is  served  to  those  who  choose  to  partake  of  it, 
and  every  Sabbath  evening  there  is  a  service  of  song, 
followed  by  a  warm-hearted,  fatherly  sort  of  talk  from 
the  good  clergyman ;  and  after  that  come  lemonade  and 
cake,  which  are  passed  around  amid  the  hum  and  stir 
of  a  regular  American  sociable.  It  goes  without  the 
saying  that  to  these  formal  gatherings  on  Sunday,  and 
to  such  delightful  entertainments  as  are  always  gotten  up 
at  Thanksgiving  and  Christmas,  the  young  men  are  in- 
vited. It  may  be  added  also  that  to  Young  America, 
turned  loose  in  the  gay  city  of  Paris,  such  opportuni- 
ties for  pure  intercourse,  under  wholesome  restraints, 
with  girls  of  their  own  nationality  and  sometimes  of 


36  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

their  own  neighborhood,  mean  more  than  words  cau 
express. 

In  regard  to  young  men,  it  is  questionable  if  some 
do  not  come  to  Paris  who  might  better  be  kept  much 
nearer  to  maternal  apron-strings.  Indulgent  friends 
have  given  them  an  excessive  idea  of  their  own  talent, 
and  they  come  here — a  few  do — to  find  before  long  that, 
at  best,  they  can  not  rise  above  the  mediocre.  This  is 
discouraging,  and  occasionally  even  ruinous.  Besides, 
Paris  is  a  dreadful  place  for  a  young  man  of  small  will- 
power and  pliable  habits.  It  can  surely  do  no  harm  to 
warn  those  interested  of  the  moral  risks  lying  in  the 
pathway  of  the  Paris  art  student.  We  more  than  sus- 
pect that,  at  present,  ambitious  parents  do  not  always 
give  sufficient  consideration  to  these  things.  Still,  it  is 
only  the  few  who  make  shipwreck  on  this  turbulent  sea. 
The  boys,  as  a  rule,  are  well-behaved.  Most  of  them 
have  neither  the  time  nor  the  money  for  great  excesses; 
and  many  are  so  well  poised,  both  morally  and  intel- 
lectually, that  the  incitements  to  a  fast  life  are  no  more 
felt  in  this  city  of  pleasure  than  in  the  quiet  life  they 
might  be  living  at  home. 

Many  of  these  gifted  American  boys  we  have  seen, 
and  candor  compels  the  admission  that  they  are  a  noble 
class,  if  one  may  judge  from  appearances.  Broad,  high 
foreheads,  clean-cut  lips,  and  eyes  which  beam  with  in- 
telligence,— these  are  their  usual  characteristics.  They 
have  quite  a  distinguished  look,  as  a  rule,  and  some  bear 


AMERICANS  IN  PARIS.  37 

unmistakable  marks  of  genius.  In  a  room  full  of  such 
young  men,  one  can  not  help  speculating  upon  their 
future.  American  art  is  only  emerging  from  its  infancy. 
Here  are  the  men  whose  gifts  and  accomplishments  will 
help  it  before  long  into  an  honorable  manhood.  All 
will  not  achieve  greatness;  but  some  will,  and  their 
names  and  works  will  command  national  and  even  in- 
ternational applause.  Some  of  them,  however,  are  hav- 
ing hard  times  just  now.  We  have  heard  of  those  who 
are  eking  out  a  subsistence  upon  as  little  as  twenty 
cents  a  day,  including  a  bed  to  sleep  in — such  as  it  is. 
These,  of  course,  are  exceptions,  but  there  are  many 
who  get  along  upon  a  yearly  expenditure  of  three  or 
four  hundred  dollars.  This,  in  Paris,  means  a  room 
under  the  roof,  probably  in  the  fifth  or  sixth  story,  and 
the  most  frugal  table,  not  to  speak  of  other  necessary 
economies.  Rather  a  hard  life,  but  borne  cheerfully  by 
those  who  can  do  no  better;  and  some  of  the  girls  fare 
just  as  poorly  as  the  most  impecunious  of  the  boys. 

Upon  eight  or  nine  hundred  a  year,  the  student  will 
get  along  very  well.  The  Chanler  scholarships,  re- 
cently instituted,  are  on  the  $900  basis,  and  they  are 
hailed  by  the  students  as  the  beginning  of  better  times 
for  at  least  a  few  of  them.  Among  the  girl  students  it 
is  not  uncommon  for  several  to  live  together  and  keep 
house.  This  is  pleasant,  but  somewhat  dangerous;  for 
the  girls,  it  is  said,  are  liable,  under  such  an  arrange- 
ment as  this,  not  to  eat  at  regular  times,  nor  in  suffi- 


38  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

cieut  quantity,  the  result  being  that  health  gives  way. 
At  a  recent  reception,  given  at  the  girls'  club-rooms,  an 
address  was  made  by  the  American  minister,  Mr.  Cool- 
idge.  To  an  outsider  it  seemed  strange  to  hear  him  ad- 
vising these  high-spirited  American  damsels  upon  so 
commonplace  a  matter  as  their  eating;  but  when  he  in- 
sisted upon  their  not  putting  themselves  off  with  "less 
than  three  meals  a  day,  every  day,"  and  all  the  girls  tit- 
tered at  the  remark,  every  one  turning  to  look  know- 
ingly at  her  neighbor,  one  could  well  understand  the 
need  for  such  advice. 

As  to  the  way  in  which  the  boys  live,  it  may  be  said 
generally,  allowing  for  exceptions,  that  they  room  in  an 
attic  and  take  their  meals  at  twenty-five-cent  restaurants. 
We  make  this  statement  upon  the  testimony  of  the  stu- 
dents themselves.  But  in  regard  to  eating,  they  are 
better  off  than  they  used  to  be,  because  of  the  good, 
cheap  fare  provided  at  a  restaurant  which  is  practically 
under  their  owu  control.  This  is  attached  to  the  Amer- 
ican Art  Students'  Club,  an  institution  founded  about  a 
year  ago  by  Mr.  A.  A.  Anderson,  a  distinguished  Amer- 
ican artist  resident  in  Paris.  The  location  of  this  Club 
is  right  in  the  center  of  the  students'  quarter,  at  131 
Boulevard  Montparnasse,  and  it  affords  to  the  young  men 
similar  facilities,  barring  the  religious  element,  to  those 
which  the  young  women  enjoy  in  a  locality  a  few  squares 
away.  Here,  as  at  the  other  place,  there  are  occasional 
entertainments — a  male  party  one  fortnight,  and  the 


AMERICANS  IN  PARIS.  39 

next,  a  party  in  which  the  ladies  share.  Thus,  while 
student  life  in  Paris  has  its  dangers  and  hardships,  it 
has  also  its  brighter  aspects ;  and  it  will  be  gratifying 
to  Americans  to  be  assured  that  the  city  which  has  so 
long  held  out  to  their  gifted  sons  and  daughters  so  many 
artistic  inducements,  is  offering  now,  in  connection  with 
these,  a  few  social  and  moral  safeguards. 


III. 

ON  THE  BOULEVARDS. 

PARISIAN  life,  as  seen  on  the  Great  Boulevards,  has 
often  been  described,  but  the  subject  has  lost  none 
of  its  fascination  for  either  the  visitor  or  the  reader; 
and  as  no  two  visitors  look  at  the  scene  from  precisely 
the  same  standpoint,  or  are  impressed  by  just  the  same 
things,  there  is  still  a  chance  for  one  who  shall  sketch 
this  scene  from  personal  observation  to  make  his  pic- 
tures both  original  and  interesting.  By  the  Great  Bou- 
levards we  mean  the  streets  bearing  that  name  which 
were  constructed  under  Louis  XEV,  and  which  extend 
in  almost  a  complete  circle  around  what  was  formerly 
the  city,  their  site  having  originally  been  the  location 
of  the  city  ramparts,  or  fortifications.  Outside  of  these 
there  is  another  circle  of  boulevards,  and  this  circle 
marks  the  site  of  the  ramparts  of  Paris  after  they  had 
been  extended  so  as  to  embrace  the  former  suburbs,  or 
Faubourgs.  Still  farther  out,  beyond  the  Communes, 
and  at  the  extreme  limits  of  what  is  the  Paris  of  to-day, 
are  those  boulevards,  so-called,  which  form  a  sort  of 
military  road  for  the  massing  of  troops,  and  the  manning 
and  victualing  of  the  mammoth  defenses  by  which  the 
Paris  of  the  future  hopes  to  protect  itself  more  effect- 
ually than  it  did  twenty-two  years  ago  against  any  pos- 
40 


ON  THE  BOULEVARDS.  41 

sible  incursion  of  the  armies  of  Kaiser  William.  Thus  the 
city  has  an  abundance  of  boulevards;  and  one  is  tempted 
to  remark,  apropos  of  the  derivation  of  this  name  from 
bulivarks,  that  if  all  these  great  thoroughfares  furnished 
as  many  evidences  of  the  things,  which  conduce  to  na- 
tional strength  as  they  do  of  the  prevailing  passion  for 
adornment,  this  wonderful  city  would  be  well  fortified 
indeed,  both  against  external  foes  and  against  the  more 
subtle  and  dangerous  forces  which  menace  her  from 
within. 

Chief  among  the  Great  Boulevards  are  those  which 
bear  the  names  of  Madeleine,  Capucines,  Italieus,  Mont- 
martre,  Poissonnier,  Bonne-Nouvelle,  and  St.  Denis.  An 
afternoon's  saunter  along  these  thoroughfares,  keeping 
the  eyes  open  and  the  reflective  faculties  busy  en  route, 
will  reveal  to  you  very  much  that  is  characteristic  of 
this  gay  city.  You  will  get  in  such  a  walk  a  good  view 
of  Parisian  life,  will  pass  or  be  within  sight  of  many 
places  of  commanding  interest,  and  will  be  reminded 
repeatedly  of  the  checkered  and  sanguinary  history  the 
city  has  had.  Almost  everything  in  Paris  speaks  of 
change  and  violence,  and  this  idea  is  made  strikingly 
prominent  in  our  walk  on  the  Great  Boulevards.  We 
start  at  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  Magdalen — the  Made- 
leine. It  was  intended  originally  to  be,  what  it  now  is, 
a  place  of  worship;  but  Bonaparte  converted  it  into  a 
Temple  of  Glory.  Begun  in  1777,  it  was  retarded  in 
its  erection  by  two  Revolutions  (1792  and  1830),  and 


42  IN  SUNNY  FRANCK. 

was  not  finally  finished  until  1842.  Here  is  a  reminder 
both  of  the  vicissitudes  of  the  nation  and  of  the  vacil- 
lating attitude  of  the  national  Government  toward 
religion. 

This  is  at  the  beginning  of  our  walk ;  and  at  the 
other  end,  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  each  other, 
are  two  grim-looking  piles  which  are  similarly  suggest- 
ive, and  in  their  modern  history  even  more  so.  These 
are  the  Portes  St.  Denis  and  St.  Martin,  erected  by  the 
city  in  honor  of  the  victories  of  the  Grand  Monarch. 
In  1814,  after  the  first  overthrow  of  Napoleon,  the 
Allied  Armies  entered  the  city  by  the  Porte  St.  Martin. 
A  fearful  desecration,  and  it  marked  a  great  change; 
but  it  was  a  scene  of  peace,  and  quite  an  affair  of  honor, 
in  comparison  with  the  scenes  these  two  Portes  witnessed 
during  the  ravages  of  the  last  Commune.  The  Place  de 
I' 'Opera  marks  the  site  of  another  great  change,  and  one, 
happily,  which  it  is  a  pleasure  to  recall.  When  you 
stand  in  this  Place,  which  has  no  less  than  sis'  broad 
thoroughfares  diverging  from  it,  and  remember  that  from 
the  ground  now  left  vacant  for  convenience  and  pleas- 
ure some  five  hundred  houses  had  to  be  removed  at  al- 
most untold  cost,  you  get  a  practical  object-lesson  of 
what  Parisian  enterprise  means;  and  when  you  look  at 
the  grand  opera-house  itself,  which  covers  three  acres 
and  cost  nearly  ten  millions  of  dollars,  your  conception 
of  what  has  been  done  to  make  Paris  the  most  beauti- 
ful city  in  the  world  is  enlarged  still  further. 


ON  THE  BOULEVARDS.  43 

Even  here,  though,  spite  of  the  beauty  and  enter- 
prise about  you,  it  is  impossible  to  lose  sight  of  that 
which  has  been  horrible  in  this  city's  history,  or  to  di- 
vest yourself  entirely  of  fear  for  her  future.  At  the 
other  end  of  the  grand  Rue  de  la  Paix  the  Column 
Vendome  rises  to  your  view,  looking  as  though  it  had 
stood  there  undisturbed  for  a  hundred  years.  Yet  in 
1871  the  fury  of  a  Parisian  mob  had  leveled  it  to  the 
ground ;  and  not  far  beyond  is  the  site  of  the  Tuileries, 
to  \yhich  Parisian  madmen  applied,  at  the  same  time, 
the  torch  of  the  incendiary.  Even  the  paving  of  these 
great  streets  has  its  story  of  foreboding  to  tell.  It  is  no 
longer  of  stone,  because1  so  often  stones  have  been  used 
for  barricades  and  weapons  of  assault,  but  of  wood,  and 
in  the  smallest  blocks,  the  peculiar  rumbling  of  the 
traffic  over  it,  which  reminds  you  at  first  of  the  rum- 
bling sound  peculiar  to  the  ocean,  seeming,  in  conse- 
quence, like  a  never-ceasing  admonition  at  once  of  what 
has  been  and  what  may  be. 

But  the  shops  you  see  on  these  boulevards  give  no 
sign  of  anything  like  this;  and  the  throngs  of  people 
you  meet  are  surely,  for  the  greater  part,  living  neither 
in  the  past  nor  the  future,  but  in  the  gay  and  all-en- 
grossing present.  You  detect  no  fear  in  the  air;  but 
you  do  often  detect  in  it  the  real  or  artificial  fragrance 
of  flowers.  This  is  distinctly  Parisian.  We  never  no- 
ticed it  to  any  extent  in  New  York,  nor  in  London,  but 
we,  pass  shop  after  shop  in  Paris  which  sends  out  a  de- 


44  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

lightful  fragrance  to  us;  and  occasionally  a  creature  in 
silks  and  ribbons  will  sweep  past,  so  bountifully  endued 
with  perfume  as  to  infect  the  air  with  sweetness  for 
yards  behind  her.  If  it  were  only  possible,  as  these 
Parisian  ladies  pass  by,  leaving  such  delightful  remind- 
ers in  their  wake,  to  dismiss  from  your  mind  the  old 
saying  that  where  odors  of  this  kind  are  used  so  freely 
you  may  suspect  the  presence  of  others  which  it  is  de- 
sirable to  conceal,  one  could  not  only  be  thankful  to 
these  fragrant  creatures,  but  might  almost  be  in  danger 
of  admiring  them. 

What  the  feminine  complexion  isjike  in  Paris,  one 
can  hardly  say  from  a  walk  on  the  boulevards.  The 
furtive  glances  we  have  ventured  to  cast  upon  it  have 
left  the  impression  that  you  see  it  in  public  under  a 
mask ;  but  the  mask  is  exceedingly  pretty  as  a  work  of 
art.  Those  who  have  seen  this  complexion  at  early 
breakfast  say  that  the  mask,  so  generally  and  so  skill- 
fully put  on  later  in  the  day,  is  more  attractive  than 
the  face  itself  would  be.  Perhaps  it  is;  but  to  give 
these  Parisian  ladies  their  due,  it  must  be  added  that 
their  faces  are  well  formed,  that  most  of  them  are  blessed 
with  the  loveliest  eyes,  and  that  they  maintain  alto- 
gether a  very  pleasing  and  even  striking  expression. 
In  the  latter  characteristic  the  proud  dames  of  old  Eng- 
land look  dull  and  insipid,  as  a  rule,  in  comparison  with 
their  fair  sisters  of  sunny  France;  and  we  are  not  sure 
that  the  Parisian  beauty  is  fully  equaled,  in  this  one 


ON  THE  BOULEVARDS.  45 

point  of  wearing  habitually  a  gentle  and  pleasing  ex- 
pression, by  even  the  best  types  among  our  own  country- 
women. 

But  we  are  digressing  to  talk  of  the  ladies — not  at 
all  an  uncommon  weakness  in  Paris,  especially  with  men 
who  spend  much  time  on  the  Great  Boulevards.  But 
in  our  present  description  of  these  great  arteries  of  life 
there  are  other  beautiful  things  to  be  noted.  In  fact, 
everything  is  beautiful,  and  everything  is  obviously  de- 
signed to  be  so.  The  shops  which  most  attract  you  are 
those  in  which  articles  of  luxury  for  the  household  are 
displayed.  If  French  salons  are  furnished  after  the 
models  you  see  on  the  boulevards,  what  nests  of  ele- 
gance and  art  they  must  be!  After  looking  into  win- 
dows where  bonnets  and  dress-goods  are  displayed,  you 
hardly  wonder  at  the  passion  of  Paris  for  pretty  toilets, 
or  at  the  craze  which  has  made  this  city  the  shopping 
emporium  of  the  world.  In  the  tempting  display  of 
bric-a-brac  the  Parisian  shopkeeper  is  simply  overwhelm- 
ing. Even  the  butchers'  shops  are  beautiful.  Fancy 
the  interior  of  a  dressed  calf  decked  out  with  roses! 
Think  of  sheep,  waiting  to  be  cut  up,  with  dainty  paper 
caps  over  their  necks,  with  pretty  pictures  adorning 
their  backs,  and  with  a  green  leaf,  having  an  orna- 
mental gilt  center,  at  the  base  of  their  tails !  This  is  Paris, 
whether  you  see  it  on  the  boulevards  or  on  the  back 
streets ;  and  what  you  observe  in  one  line  of  trade,  fairly 
represents  the  artistic  genius  of  shopkeepers  in  general. 


46  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

If  by  any  chance,  in  sauntering  along  the  boule- 
vards, you  should  grow  weary  of  looking  at  other  beau- 
tiful things,  you  can  turn  at  any  moment  and  look  at 
yourself,  for  mirrors  seem  to  be  everywhere.  Xot  only 
has  the  shopkeeper  provided  them  abundantly  in  his 
show-windows ;  but  they  are  on  the  doors,  on  the  sides  of 
the  entry  way,  and  in  every  other  available  place. 
Evidently,  too,  this  ample  provision  meets  a  widespread 
want.  We  had  thought  it  only  a  weakness  of  the  fair 
sex  to  have  a  fondness  for  looking-glasses,  but  Paris  has 
disabused  us  of  this  notion.  On  the  boulevards  it  is 
almost  as  common  to  see  men  worshiping  at  this  shrine 
as  to  see  women  standing  in  adoration  before  it. 
We  are  not  prepared  as  yet  to  say  that  the  well-dressed 
Frenchman  is  vain ;  but  the  care  he  bestows  upon  his 
facial  adornment,  and  particularly  upon  his  mustache, 
has  raised  within  us  a  suspicion  of  this  kind,  and  the 
penchant  he  shows  for  posing  before  these  public  and 
ever-present  mirrors  has  somewhat  strengthened  that 
suspicion. 

To  start  again  at  the  Madeleine,  you  notice  at  once 
how  the  broad  sidewalks  are  dotted  at  short  intervals 
by  pretty  booths.  These  are  newspaper-stands,  and 
places  where  flowers  can  be  bought.  Occasionally  you 
pass  a  high,  circular  contrivance,  around  the  top  of 
which  is  the  word  "Spectacles."  These  are  for  the  dis- 
play of  theatrical  bills,  and  at  night  they  are  illuminated 
from  the  top.  This  is  how  Paris  modifies  and  makes 


Ox  THE  BOULEVARDS.  47 

pleasing  those  bill-sticking  propensities  which  in  Amer- 
ican cities  are  allowed  full  play,  regardless  of  both  taste 
and  decency.  But  other  objects  on  the  sidewalk,  found 
at  intervals  of  about  a  couple  of  squares,  and  standing 
out  as  conspicuously  on  the  crowded  boulevards  as  else- 
where, will  prompt  you  to  compare  American  cities  with 
Paris  to  the  decided  advantage  of  the  former,  and  will 
make  you  thankful  that  in  certain  matters  we  still  re- 
tain, on  our  side  of  the  ocean,  a  measurable  sense  of 
delicacy. 

Which  reminds  us,  however,  that  our  own  country 
is  represented  on  these  boulevards,  and  not  always  at 
its  best.  There  are  places  where  they  advertise  Amer- 
ican drinks;  and  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Grand  Hotel 
you  may  easily  pick  up  one  of  your  compatriots  as  a 
guide  in  doing  the  sights  of  this  gay  city.  These  are 
questionable  advantages — the  latter  as  much  so  as  the 
former.  But  no  American  can  notice  without  pride  the 
gaping  crowd  of  Parisians  which  constantly  surrounds  a 
shop  in  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens,  where  American 
type-writers  are  on  exhibition. 

Making  your  way  toward  the  other  end  of  this 
string  of  boulevards  you  observe,  after  a  time,  that  the 
scene  has  changed  somewhat,  that  the  shops  are  less 
sumptuous,  and  the  living  figures  in  this  stirring  pano- 
rama of  life  less  fashionably  attired.  Here  you  see 
many  who  belong  to  the  great  army  of  Parisian  toilers ; 
and  in  regard  to  the  women,  you  will  be  struck  by  the 


48  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

large  numbers  of  this  class,  daintily  dressed  otherwise, 
who  will  be  bareheaded.  This  is  another  Paris  fashion ; 
but  there  is  hardly  enough  in  it  for  milliners  to  secure 
it  a  place  in  the  fashion-plates  of  America.  Perhaps  as 
you  return  toward  the  Madeleine,  the  scene  will  have 
changed  still  more  by  the  fact  of  darkness  having  called 
into  play  the  myriad  lights  which  make  these  boulevards 
even  more  fascinating  than  in  daytime.  But  Paris  by 
night  we  do  not  care  to  dwell  upon. 


IV. 

THE  POOR  OF  PARIS. 

THE  public  ball-rooms  of  Paris  have  furnished  many 
a  salacious  morsel  for  American  readers.  They 
are  still  in  full  blast;  and,  judging  from  the  pictures 
one  can  see  in  a  hundred  windows  of  this  city,  they  are 
still  presenting  nightly  to  Parisian  youth  the  same  old 
scenes  of  female  indecency.  We  were  recently,  how- 
ever, in  one  of  these  rooms  which  is  used  now  for  a 
totally  different  purpose.  The  gallery  is  there  from 
which,  in  former  years,  the  eyes  of  lust  looked  down 
upon  dancers  whose  attitudes  and  movements  ministered 
to  the  lowest  passions ;  but  these  galleries  are  occupied  at 
present  by  those  seeking  a  better  life,  and  are  adorned  in 
front  with  mottoes  from  the  Holy  Word.  On  the  ground- 
floor  we  find  now,  instead  of  the  gay  votaries  of  vice,  a 
decent  assemblage  of  middle-aged  dames,  with  a  bright 
intermingling  of  innocent,  clean-faced  childhood.  It  is 
a  Mothers'  Meeting,  held  under  the  auspices  of  the  great 
McAll.  The  women  are  all  poor,  but  they  look  very 
clean  and  remarkably  intelligent.  Most  of  the  two 
hundred  have  brought  their  knitting  with  them,  and 
the  diligent  plying  of  their  needles,  while  a  young  lady 
reads  to  them  some  wholesome  story,  is  a  reminder  to 

us  of  how,  in  the  gathering  storm  of  a  hundred  years 

4  49 


50  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

ago,  the  women  of  Paris  used  to  knit  into  tlieir  work 
the  names  of  those  whom  their  revolutionary  vengeance 
had  marked  for  the  guillotine.  But  what  a  change  since 
then,  we  reflect,  and  how  delightfully  suggestive  is  the 
scene  we  now  behold  of  the  revolution  which  is  quietly 
going  on  in  these  days  in  the  morals  and  habits  of  these 
Parisian  women ! 

In  our  visit  to  this  interesting  place  we  were  accom- 
panied by  a  gentleman  whose  knowledge  of  the  poor  of 
this  great  city  has  been  gained  by  many  years  of  self- 
sacrificing  labor  for  their  advancement;  and  when  we 
saw  over  the  door  of  this  erstwhile  ball-room,  "  Salle 
New  York,"  indicating  that  the  work  done  in  this  par- 
ticular locality  was  backed  by  American  means,  we  felt 
quite  sure  that  what  our  guide  could  tell  us  and  show 
us  of  lowly  life  in  Paris,  and  of  what  is  being  done  to 
redeem  it,  would  be  as  welcome  to  the  better  class  of 
American  readers  as  other  and  less  innocent  views  are 
to  readers  who  delight  in  having  scandal  and  vice  de- 
scribed to  them. 

"The  poor  of  Paris,"  began  our  friend — "well,  they 
are  not  so  vulgar,  not  so  brutal,  not  so  drunken,  as  the 
poor  of  London.  They  are  more  self-respecting,  and 
will  make  altogether  a  better  impression  upon  you." 
This  was  the  opinion  of  one  who  is  proud  of  old  Eng- 
land as  his  native  country,  and  it  is  a  view  which  is 
fully  borne  out  by  our  own  observations.  "How  do 
they  live?  Well,  to  begin  with,  they  have  scarcely  any 


THE  POOR  OF  PARIS.  51 

home  comforts.  That 's  why  they  are  on  the  streets  so 
much.  Of  fire,  they  have  next  to  none,  and  lights  the 
same.  The  candle  or  two  they  may  keep  about  are 
brought  into  service  only  when  some  one  drops  in. 
Cooking?  Why,  the  very  poor  hardly  ever  do  any. 
They  get  their  food  from  the  numerous  little  shops 
where  meat  and  vegetables  are  sold  ready  for  the  table. 
Cheap?  No,  meat  is  not,  unfortunately;  but  vege- 
tables are,  and  these  form  the  staple  of  their  living. 
Perhaps,  by  the  way,  you've  visited  the  great  markets, 
and  have  noticed  the  stalls  there  where  plates  of  cooked 
edibles  are  sold  at  four  sous  (four  cents)  apiece.  These 
are  eagerly  snatched  up  as  special  delicacies.  They  are 
scraps  from  the  tables  of  the  wealthy.  How  collected? 
Well,  it  is  something  of  a  mystery;  but  there  they  are, 
and  it  is  generally  supposed  that  they  are  obtained  for  a 
trifling  bounty  through  the  servants." 

So  our  friend  talked  on,  and  occasionally,  as  we 
jogged  together  through  the  narrow  and  crooked 
thoroughfares  in  the  neighborhood  of  Rue  St.  Antoine, 
he  would  call  our  attention  to  something  particularly 
squalid  or  ancient  in  our  surroundings.  We  should  not 
find  here,  he  said,  many  of  the  very  poor.  It  was  not 
the  worst  part  of  the  city;  but  it  approximated  to 
that  distinction,  and  it  had  some  features  not  to  be 
found  anywhere  else.  The  district  is  known  as  "Old 
Paris."  Before  the  time  of  the  Grand  Monarch  the 
French  nobility  dwelt  in  this  quarter.  What  were 


52  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

palaces  then  are  now  either  magazines  of  trade  or  com- 
mon tenement-houses.  Several  mediaeval  towers  were 
pointed  out  to  us,  one  of  which  is  associated  with  the 
murder,  by  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  of  the  brother  of  a 
French  king.  We  saw,  also,  the  old  palace  which  for 
long  years  was  the  residence  of  the  archbishops  of  the 
Seine.  Now  the  courts  of  this  vast  structure  resound 
to  the  tread  of  poverty,  and  its  massive  stairways  are 
climbed  by  those  who  seek,  in  hunger,  rooms  which  are 
bare  and  cold.  For  the  narrowness  of  some  of  its 
thoroughfares  this  part  of  the  city — which,  by  the  way, 
is  seldom  seen  by  visitors — is  without  an  equal.  A 
small  alley  was  pointed  out  to  us  as  the  narrowest  street 
in  all  Paris.  It  is  not  more  than  a  yard  and  a  half  in 
width,  and  only  that  its  name,  with  the  ubiquitous 
"Rue,"  is  plainly  given  on  the  walls  of  its  high  build- 
ings, you  would  not  suspect  it  of  being  a  street  at  all. 
But  we  saw  several  not  more  than  three  yards  wide. 
On  either  side,  too,  were  the  inevitable  five  and  six  story 
dwelling-houses.  Which  moves  us  to  remark  that  the 
poor  of  Paris  are  worse  off  than  the  poor  of  London  in 
some  respects.  They  certainly  have  less  light,  and  a 
deal  more  climbing  to  do.  This,  because  the  dwellings 
are  so  much  higher.  We  are  still  of  the  opinion,  and 
in  fact  are  more  fully  confirmed  in  it,  that,  for  the  ne- 
cessity of  stair-climbing  it  imposes,  Paris  beats  the  world. 
In  this  matter,  poor  and  rich  are  sufferers  almost  equally ; 
and  one  wonders  that,  with  such  decided  revolutionary 


THE  POOR  OF  PARIS.  53 

tendencies,  the  people  here  have  never  yet  taken  up  arms 
against  tyrannical  architects. 

Our  kind  cicerone  was  too  much  occupied  with  good 
work  for  the  poor  of  Paris  to  give  a  whole  afternoon  to 
the  mere  task  of  showing  an  inquisitive  American  where 
and  how  they  live.  Hence,  he  mingled  business  with 
pleasure,  so  to  speak.  In  other  words,  he  had  made 
out  a  calling-list,  and,  fortunately  for  us,  we  were  to 
share  these  domiciliary  visits.  But  still  he  talked.  "One 
thing  about  the  working-people  of  Paris,"  he  said,  "is 
very  noteworthy  and  highly  commendable.  They  wear 
their  own  clothes — not  the  cast-off  finery  of  the  rich ; 
and  what  they  wear  is  neither  ragged  nor  dirty."  We 
had  thought  as  much,  and  remarking  upon  the  large 
number  of  women  who  go  about  the  streets  bareheaded, 
our  friend  observed:  "That  is  a  matter  of  economy. 
See  the  same  people  on  a  bright  Sunday  or  other  gala- 
day,  or  at  a  place  of  worship,  and  you  will  find  them 
looking  quite  differently.  A  neat  bonnet  will  appear ; 
and,  as  for  the  men,  they  must  be  low  down  indeed  not 
to  have  a  respectable  suit  for  holiday  wear.  But  they 
understand  economy.  They  are  different,  in  that  re- 
spect, from  the  poorer  classes  in  England.  The  bonnet, 
which  costs  something  and  looks  well,  must  be  taken 
care  of  and  made  to  last.  So  with  the  best  suit  of  the 
man.  Hence  these  are  not  worn  except  on  great  occa- 
sions, and  never  when  it  rains." 

"The  last  uprising  of  the  Commune,"  we  suggested — 


54  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

"  was  it  shared  in  actively  by  the  people  among  whose 
abodes  we  are  now  moving?"  To  which  our  friend  re- 
plied that  it  was  not.  "The  working-people  here  are 
scattered  about  amongst  classes  that  are  better  off. 
Consequently  they  have  less  opportunity  to  become  clan- 
nish. Their  social  views  are  modified  somewhat  by 
their  surroundings.  The  really  dangerous  classes  are  in 
places  like  Belleville,  where  vast  hordes  of  workmen  are 
huddled  together,  and  where  the  spirit  of  these  toiling 
thousands,  aggregated  and  solidified,  is  a  dominating 
power  in  social  and  municipal  life." 

All  of  which  was  exceedingly  instructive;  but  just 
here  we  followed  our  friend  into  the  hallway  of  a  tene- 
ment, and  the  ever-watchful  concierge,  or  porter,  having 
been  satisfied  as  to  the  propriety  of  our  intentions,  we 
groped  our  way  up  five  flights  of  stairs.  The  building 
had  formerly  been  a  mansion,  and  so  thick  was  the  rail- 
ing that  to  clasp  it  with  the  hand,  as  a  help  to  our 
ascent,  was  impossible.  But  it  was  so  dark,  and  the 
ascent  was  so  steep,  that  we  could  hardly  have  gotten 
along  without  some  help  of  this  kind.  Hence  it  was  a 
relief  to  find  that  landlords,  in  this  quarter,  had  been 
required  by  law  to  attach,  to  these  ancient  railings  a 
thinner  rail  of  iron.  By  such  assistance  as  we  got  from 
one  of  these,  we  found  ourselves  at  last  in  the  apart- 
ment of  a  Paris  workman — one  who,  unfortunately,  had 
been  out  of  employment  for  some  time,  with  a  sick  wife 
on  his  hands. 


THE  POOR  OF  PARIS.  55 

Here  was  the  abode  of  honest  poverty.  It  was  a 
single  room,  but  was  made  double  by  curtains.  The 
curtains  were  an  exact  match  in  color  and  pattern  for 
the  blue-tinted  wall-paper.  This  was  only  to  be  ex- 
pected ;  for  to  combinations  and  matches — the  little 
things  which  indicate  a  prevailing  taste  for  the  beautiful 
and  artistic — the  poor  of  Paris  are  as  passionately  de- 
voted, within  their  means,  as  are  the  rich  and  leisured. 
The  apartment  was  rented  as  a  furnished  one  for  eight 
francs  a  week ;  but  the  furniture  was  anything  but 
abundant,  and  the  bedstead  was  of  a  plain  iron  pat- 
tern. In  its  size  the  family  was  typically  Parisian.  It 
consisted  of  a  bright-looking  girl  of  ten  years.  The 
working-people  of  France,  we  have  before  remarked,  are 
economical,  and  here  is  a  practical  illustration  of  the 
sort  of  economy  on  their  part  which  is  giving  so  much 
trouble  these  days  to  the  social  economists  of  this 
country.  Kind  words  from  the  good  missionary,  with  a 
short  invocation,  introduced  by  the  familiar  "Notre 
pere;"  a  hearty  Bon  jour,  which  means  "Good  day;" 
and  a  hand-shake,  which  meant  to  the  bonne  dame  that 
she  would  be  better  off  thereafter  to  the  extent  of  a 
modest  silver  coin, — so  began  and  so  ended  our  first 
visit.  It  was  brief,  but  it  gave  us  a  touching  view  of 
French  home-life,  and  a  delightful  insight  into  the  good 
work  of  Protestant  missionaries  in  this  city. 

Another  call  had  an  element  of  genuine  romance  in 
it.  We  were  forewarned  of  the  situation,  but  the  curi- 


56  IN  SUXXY  FRANCK. 

ous  denouement  was  quite  unexpected.  "  Do  n't  trouble 
yourself  if  the  good  woman  cries  a  bit,"  our  friend  had 
said.  "  She 's  poor,  and  she 's  in  trouble.  A  man  wants 
to  marry  her;  but  he's  out  of  work,  and  I'm  discour- 
aging the  match.  My  visit  to-day  is  for  that  special 
object."  Here  were  grand  possibilities  opening  before 
us;  and  we  entered  the  apartment  prepared  for  any- 
thing, as  we  thought,  and  yet  hardly  prepared  for  what 
really  took  place.  The  woman  was  fat,  not  fair,  and 
much  beyond  forty;  but  she  was  tidily  dressed,  and  in 
her  trim  black  cap  looked  matronly  enough  to  be  not 
only  a  wife,  but  the  mother  of  a  lot  of  olive- 
branches. 

In  what  took  place  during  this  visit  we  were  imposed 
upon,  owing  to  our  imperfect  knowledge  of  French. 
But  though  the  language  deceived  us,  our  eyes  did  not. 
We  were  quite  sure  that  we  saw  a  third  man  enter  the 
apartment,  and  that,  after  an  introduction  to  the  visitor 
from  America,  he  proceeded  to  make  himself  very  much 
at  home.  We  were  sure,  also,  that  there  was  a  general 
and  very  animated  conversation,  and  that  the  new-comer, 
in  sustaining  his  own  special  part  therein,  became  nerv- 
ous, and  had  recourse  frequently  to  his  snuff-box.  We 
also  heard  a  little  prayer,  and,  as  we  had  been  fore- 
warned, saw  a  woman  in  tears.  Then  we  saw  the  good 
dominie  sign  a  paper,  and  afterwards  he  read  from  a 
familiar-looking  book  what  sounded  very  much  like  a 
familiar  benediction.  Then  parting  salutations  were 


THE  POOR  OF  PARIS.  57 

exchanged ;  and  afterwards,  when  the  court-yard  had 
been  gained,  the  astonishing  explanation  came. 

Actually,  this  kind  clergyman,  while  swearing  he'd 
ne'er  consent,  had  consented  on  the  spot.  He  could  n't 
help  it,  he  said,  because  they  pleaded  so  eloquently. 
"We're  both  poor,"  the  man  had  urged,  "and  we're 
both  miserable  as  we  are.  She  comes  home,  and  finds 
no  comfort;  I  go  home,  and  there  is  no  comfort  for  me. 
Let  us  share  our  miseries,  and  see  if  in  that  way  we 
may  not  lighten  them."  So  the  man,  happening  to  drop 
in,  had  urged  his  suit;  with  such  success,  too,  that  the 
paper  which  had  been  signed  was  the  document  which 
will  be  presented  to  the  mayor,  by  and  by,  as  the  last 
preliminary  in  the  civil  features  of  a  French  marriage. 

"So  there  are  some  marriages  in  France  where  the 
bride  brings  no  dowry?"  we  remarked.  To  which  our 
cicerone  replied  that,  of  course,  there  were  such  weddings 
among  the  poor,  though  even  with  the  poorest  there  would 
be  a  strict  inventory  of  the  little  belongings  of  the  two 
parties;  and  the  bride  would  have  a  dot  really,  or  what 
would  be  considered  such,  though  she  brought  to  the 
union  only  the  clothes  she  stood  up  in. 

"But  marriage — marriage,"  said  our  friend,  "is 
made  so  difficult  in  France  that  it  is  no  wonder  there  is 
widespread  concubinage.  The  formalities  of  the  law  are 
outrageous.  Many  are  the  Frenchmen  who  have  said 
to  me  that  had  they  known  beforehand  what  annoy- 
ances they  would  have  to  submit  to,  they  would  not 


58  IN  SUNNY  FRANCK. 

have  undertaken  it.  My  own  daughter  was  married  to 
a  Frenchman,  and  here  is  what  I  had  to  do:  To  satisfy 
the  authorities  that  the  girl  was  not  some  French  damsel 
wishing  to  evade  the  customary  requirements  in  such 
cases,  I  had  to  get  her  certificate  of  baptism.  This  had 
to  be  translated  by  a  sworn  translator,  and  the  prefect 
of  police  had  to  swear  that  this  sworn  translator  was  all 
right.  Then,  the  British  consul  had  to  swear  that  the 
certificate  of  baptism  was  all  right;  and,  finally,  the 
French  minister  of  foreign  affairs  had  to  take  oath  that 
the  British  consul  was  all  right.  For  all  of  which,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  I  had  to  pay. 

"And  here,"  he  continued,  "is  this  case  we  have 
just  left.  Both  are  beyond  fifty;  yet  both  must  have 
the  consent  of  their  parents,  or  must  show  good  reason 
why  it  can  not  be  obtained.  The  man's  parents  are 
dead ;  but  he  had  to  prove  it,  which  was  very  difficult. 
The  woman  has  a  mother  living;  but  she  is  eighty- 
seven,  and  in  her  dotage.  Nevertheless  she  must  con- 
sent; and  all  these  preliminaries  had  been  arranged  at 
last,  but  only  after  a  three  months'  campaign."  Our 
friend  was  indignant;  and  we  rather  suspect  that  his 
antipathy  to  the  French  marriage-laws,  and  his  own 
painful  experience  with  them,  had  a  little  to  do  in 
evoking  his  consent  to  the  union  of  the  couple  we  had 
just  visited. 

About  dusk  we  saw  the  school  children  returning 
home,  looking  quite  as  tidy  as  the  little  toddlers  in  our 


THE  POOR  OF  PARIS.  59 

own  Gities,  and  all,  like  our  own,  carrying  their  little 
bags  of  school-books  with  them.  Still  later  we  entered 
a  common  lodging-house,  and  our  guide  introduced  us 
to  a  converted  absinthe-drinker.  Some  years  ago  he 
drank  thirty-six  glasses  of  that  nerve-destroying  decoc- 
tion at  a  single  sitting.  It  was  done  for  a  wager.  Re- 
sults— three  months  in  hospital,  and  a  wrecked  constitu- 
tion. Instead  of  inflating  himself  with  drink,  he  now 
inflates  with  wind  the  organ  of  an  adjacent  mission-hall, 
and  peddles  oranges  for  a  living.  The  neighborhood 
about  here  was  very  hard,  and  the  thought  occurred  to 
us  that  our  friend  had  hitched  on  to  his  hard-looking  con- 
vert just  then  to  keep  us  in  countenance  while  we  passed 
through  it.  But  soon  we  found  ourselves  in  the  grand 
place  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville;  and  here,  after  a  cup  of 
coffee  together,  we  took  passage  for  our  respective 
homes. 


V. 

PARIS  AND  ITS  SUBURBS. 

ROUND  about  Paris  there  is  a  circle  of  fortifications, 
surrounded  on  the  outside  by  a  deep  excavation 
which,  in  case  of  a  siege,  could  be  filled  in  a  short  time 
by  a  mighty  barrier  of  water.  The  approaches  to  the 
city  are  commanded  by  more  than  fifty  forts,  and  the 
garrison  of  defense  numbers  fifty  thousand  picked  men. 
These,  and  kindred  facts,  have  just  won  for  Paris  a  de- 
cided compliment.  The  chancellor  of  the  German  Em- 
pire has  said  recently  that  it  is  the  best  protected  city 
in  the  world.  From  such  a  source  this  is  high  praise 
indeed.  The  French  are  like  ourselves  in  one  thing. 
Not  only  have  they  a  high  opinion  of  their  own  achieve- 
ments, but  they  like  to  feel  that  what  they  do  is  gener- 
ously estimated  by  others.  Especially  proud  are  they 
of  their  big  city  on  the  Seine;  and,  as  everybody  knows, 
they  have  the  most  substantial  reasons  for  wishing  Ger- 
many to  think  well  of  that  city — particularly  of  its  de- 
fenses. Count  Von  Caprivi  has  not  promised  that  the 
armies  of  the  Kaiser  will  never  again  subdue  Paris,  but 
he  has  praised  the  city,  and  has  really  conferred  upon 
it  a  new  distinction.  For  beauty  and  gayety  it  has  long 
held  the  palm;  and  now,  if  one  may  accept  in  such  a 
matter  the  judgment  of  a  nation  which  a  couple  of 
60 


PARIS  AND  ITS  SUBURBS.  61 

decades  ago  forced  an  entrance  through  her  gates,  Paris 
the  beautiful  may  add  to  her  former  laurels  the  proud 
title  of  excelling  all  other  cities  from  a  military  point 
of  view. 

At  present,  however,  the  gates  and  fortifications  of 
Paris  seem  to  be  useful  principally  for  the  levying  of 
vexatious  taxes  upon  the  French  people  themselves. 
Of  this  we  were  forcibly  reminded,  one  day,  as  we  ap- 
proached the  Porte  Mallot,  in  company  with  a  gentle- 
man who  was  on  his  way  to  fill  a  lecture  engagement  at 
the  Sorbonue.  Our  friend  carried  a  bag  containing  a 
few  books  he  was  intending  to  use,  and  the  question  to 
be  settled  before  we  could  pass  was  whether  anything 
in  the  bag  was  taxable.  To  satisfy  the  gatekeeper,  the 
bag  must  be  opened.  It  was  all  done  quickly  enough, 
and  with  evident  politeness ;  but  it  struck  the  American 
mind  quite  unfavorably,  and,  of  course,  provoked  it  to 
numerous  inquiries.  Paris,  it  appears,  lays  tribute  in 
this  way  upon  almost  her  entire  food-supply,  and  upon 
numerous  other  things;  and  the  money  collected  is  di- 
vided between  the  Government  and  the  municipal  au- 
thorities. By  this  means  it  comes  to  pass  that  many 
articles  are  doubly  taxed;  for  in  addition  to  what  is 
assessed  upon  them  at  the  gates  of  the  city,  there  is  the 
tariff  imposed  at  the  frontier. 

After  this  we  did  not  wonder  that  a  visitor  had  to 
pay  so  enormously  for  apartments  and  board,  though  we 
did  wonder  at  the  long-suffering  patience  of  the  resi- 


62  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

dents.  Meat  of  every  kind  is  taxed.  On  a  pound  of 
butter  the  city  tariff  is  three  cents,  and  on  a  pound  of 
grapes  it  is  about  the  same.  If  you  should  go  outside 
and  shoot  a  hare,  you  would  have  to  pay  for  bringing 
into  Paris  even  a  private  little  acquisition  of  that  sort. 
Upon  spirits  and  wine  the  duty  is  considerable,  and  the 
authorities  are  exceedingly  vigilant  in  collecting  it. 
This  is  a  point  at  which  vigilance  is  quite  necessary, 
judging  from  what  one  hears  as  to  the  methods  of  smug- 
gling in  vogue.  We  are  told  that  during  the  cholera 
scare,  liquors  were  surreptitiously  brought  in  by  means 
of  coffins;  and  we  have  heard  of  one  enterprising 
liquor-dealer  who  cheated  the  Government  for  a  long 
time  by  means  of  a  dummy  footman.  That  is,  he  had 
a  wooden  contrivance  on  the  seat  of  his  carriage,  shaped 
and  dressed  like  a  footman ;  and  this  innocent-looking 
luxury  was  filled,  not  with  animal  spirits,  but  with  the 
kind  which,  at  the  gates  of  Paris,  are  held  to  be  con- 
traband. 

These  ruses  were  decidedly  clever,  and  it  is  said  that 
had  it  not  been  for  accomplices  who  turned  informers 
they  might  have  continued  in  successful  operation  in- 
definitely. Perhaps,  however,  the  countryman's  ruse 
was  the  most  effectual  for  the  time,  though  it  must  have 
put  him  to  inconvenience  afterwards.  He  had  only  a 
bottle  of  common  wine  with  him ;  but  the  gatekeeper 
knew  his  duty,  and  did  it.  The  tax  was  four  cents, 
levied  upon  an  original  valuation  of  something  like 


PARIS  AND  ITS  SUBURBS.  63 

twelve  cents.  Common  wine,  it  must  be  remembered, 
is  very  cheap  in  France;  and  this  particular  bottle 
would  have  been  cheap  enough,  one  might  have  thought, 
even  after  the  duty  had  been  paid.  But  the  French 
peasant  is  noted  for  his  thrift.  The  burning  question 
was  how  to  get  his  quart  of  wine  into  Paris  without 
any  further  investment  upon  it,  and  the  final  solution 
was  reached  by  his  carrying  it  through  the  gates  con- 
cealed, as  in  the  case  of  the  dummy  footman,  within  his 
own  anatomy. 

From  the  fact  of  the  fifty-five  gates  which  admit  to 
Paris  being  used  as  so  many  tax-gathering  offices,  it 
naturally  follows  that  the  necessaries  of  life  are  much 
cheaper  on  the  outside;  and  this,  in  turn,  accounts  for 
the  large  number  of  thriving  communities  which  nestle 
so  thickly  about  the  walls  of  this  city.  Le  Vallois- 
Perret,  the  largest  of  these,  has  forty  thousand  inhab- 
itants; Boulogne  has  thirty  thousand;  Neuilly,  twenty- 
five  thousand;  and  Viucenues,  twenty  thousand.  The 
dozen  or  more  others  are  not  so  large,  but  they  are  all 
up  into  the  thousands;  and  some  of  them,  in  their 
pretty  villas  and  other  rural  features,  present  a  contrast 
to  Paris  which  is  very  delightful.  For  the  greater  part, 
however,  these  outskirts  of  the  city  bear  a  too-monot- 
onous resemblance  in  their  architecture  to  the  city  itself. 

The  advantage  of  living  in  these  villages  is,  that  you 
are  at  the  doors  of  Paris,  with  all  that  it  offers  of  life 
and  opportunity,  and  still  are  exempt,  in  a  measure, 


64  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

from  the  burden  of  Parisian  prices.  Uu fortunately, 
however,  you  miss  here  the  public  spirit  and  what  may 
be  called  the  official  cleanliness  of  Paris.  Parisian 
streets  are  cleaned  every  day ;  those  in  the  suburbs 
enjoy  this  treat  at  odd  times,  and  some  of  them  ap- 
parently after  long  intervals.  And  another  drawback 
to  suburban  residence  is,  that  if  you  use  either  cabs, 
omnibuses,  or  other  public  conveyances,  you  will  find 
that,  alike  in  entering  and  leaving,  the  city  gates  will 
invariably  impose  an  extra  fare  upon  you.  Which  re- 
minds us  again  that  the  gates  of  Paris  are  eminently  a 
business  institution.  They  are  not  for  ornament  alone, 
nor  are  they  kept  up  merely  as  a  safeguard  against  pos- 
sible incursions  from  Germany ;  but  they  are  decidedly 
a  means  of  revenue,  and  in  the  tribute  they  lay  upon 
people  and  things  outside,  they  seem  to  corroborate  the 
old  notion  that  Paris  is  superior  to  France. 

Paris  is  entered  by  ten  railways,  and  its  extremities 
are  connected  with  each  other  by  what  is  known  as  the 
railway  of  the  circle.  Chemin  de  fer  de  Ceinture  is  the 
French  name,  and  this  road  makes  a  circuit  of  the  city 
just  within  the  fortifications.  The  distance  covered  is 
twenty-three  miles.  There  are  thirty  stations.  Most  of 
the  track  is  below  the  level  of  the  streets.  There  are 
only,  however,  five  tunnels,  and  the  longest  is  not  more 
than  three-quarters  of  a  mile.  Elsewhere  the  road  is 
higher  than  the  streets.  This  Parisian  chemin  de  fer  is 
far  more  pleasant  to  travel  on  than  the  gloomy  under- 


PARIS  AND  ITS  SUBURBS.  65 

ground  railways  of  London ;  and,  spite  of  the  fact  that 
there  is  no  third  class,  traveling  upon  it  is  reasonably 
cheap.  The  lowest  fare  is  s;x  cents,  but  you  can  go  two 
or  three  miles  for  that  sum ;  and  for  eleven  cents  you 
can  cover  the  full  length  of  the  line.  Outside  the  city 
there  is  another  circular  railway.  This  is  the  Ghemin 
de  fer  de  Grande  Ceinture.  The  nearest  it  comes  to  the 
fortifications  is  at  Bobigny,  where  it  is  within  two  miles, 
and  it  is  at  its  greatest  distance  at  St.  Germain,  where 
it  is  seven  miles  away. 

For  getting  about  in  the  city  itself,  the  arrange- 
ments are  varied  enough,  but  they  are  very  slow  as  a 
rule,  and  some  of  them  are  distressingly  old-fashioned. 
This  is  hardly  the  age  of  electricity  in  Paris.  There 
are  few  streets  lighted  by  this  means,  and  you  have  to 
search  with- great  diligence  to  find  an  electric-car.  The 
only  vehicles  offering  you  any  approach  to  rapid  transit 
are  the  steam-trams.  But  these  also  are  few;  and  thus, 
if  you  are  too  economical  to  "cab  it,"  you  are  entirely 
at  the  mercy  of  vehicles  which  travel  only  a  little  faster 
than  a  healthy  man  could  easily  walk.  But  the  ticket 
system  which  obtains  here  is  highly  commendable.  You 
get  your  number  in  the  order  in  which  you  arrive  at 
the  station  where  the  bus  or  tram  is  to  stop.  Perhaps 
you  are  a  weak  little  woman.  Before  the  vehicle  comes 
along,  a  dozen  or  two  men  may  have  taken  tickets;  but 
if  you  were  the  first,  you  have  the  first  right  to  a  seat; 
and  this  is  all  attended  to  so  carefully  and  quietly  that 


66  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

there  is  no  chance  for  cheating,  and  no  occasion  for 
crowding. 

If  the  notice  ''Complete"  is  put  up  before  your 
number  is  reached,  you  will,  of  course,  be  a  little  dis- 
appointed; but  how  it  will  delight  you,  upon  reflection, 
to  find  trams  and  busses  which  sometimes  do  get  to  be 
absolutely  full!  In  American  cities  there  is  always 
room  for  one  more,  even  when  the  last  man  to  jump  on 
is  still  hanging  by  the  bell-rope;  but  here  it  is  so 
many — the  number  which  can  be  comfortably  accom- 
modated— and  not  one  more.  Apropos  of  the  sign 
"  Complete,"  and  of  what  it  means,  there  is  a  good 
story  of  an  Irishman — probably  an  American  Irish- 
man— who,  iu  recounting  his  Parisian  peregrinations, 
said  he  bad  been  to  every  place  about  the  city  but 
Complate,  and,  bejabers,  though  he'd  tried  a  hundred 
times  to  get  a  bus  that  was  going  there,  he  had  never 
succeeded.  He  had  often  jumped  upon  the  platform  of 
such  busses,  but  had  always  been  ordered  off. 

In  Paris  you  will  waste  your  time  if  you  look  for  a 
blonde-haired  damsel  every  time  you  see  a  gray  horse, 
for  French  girls  are  mostly  of  the  brunette  type; 
whereas  gray  horses  are  in  the  greatest  profusion  here, 
especially  in  public  conveyances.  There  are  forty  lines 
of  trams  in  this  city,  and  nearly  as  many  bus-lines; 
and,  from  long  and  close  observation,  we  are  driven  to 
the  conclusion  that,  taking  the  service  through  and 


PARIS  AND  ITS  SUBURBS.  67 

through,  the  animals  of  a  grayish  complexion  which  are 
engaged  in  it  are  about  three-fourths  of  the  whole 
number.  Paris  is  great  on  style,  and  this  is  its  style  in 
horse-hair. 

Speaking  of  style  in  Parisian  bus-horses  reminds  us, 
however,  that  the  horses  engaged  in  the  enormous  cab- 
service  of  this  city  are  utterly  without  style.  There  are 
exceptions,  of  course;  but,  taken  as  a  class,  these  ani- 
mals are  a  sorry  set — the  least  pleasing  to  the  eye  of 
anything  you  see  in  all  this  busy  city.  They  are  so 
numerous,  too,  that  they  form  a  leading  feature  on 
every  thoroughfare;  for  Paris  has  ten  thousand  more 
cabs  than  London  can  boast,  though  London  is  twice 
the  size  of  Paris.  But  the  rate  at  which  you  can  hire 
these  Paris  cabs — forty  cents  an  hour,  and  less  than 
that  for  a  single  journey — is  eminently  satisfactory;  as 
also,  barring  the  one  feature  of  a  runty-looking  horse, 
is  the  general  appearance  of  the  vehicle  itself. 

And  here  we  note,  as  another  striking  instance  of 
the  Parisian  love  of  style,  that  generally  there  will  be 
a  match  between  the  cab  and  the  driver.  If  the  cab  is 
finished  wholly  in  a  dark  shade,  cabby's  hat  will  be 
black.  If  the  body  of  the  cab  is  finished  half-way  up 
in  a  lighter  shade — say  in  old  gold,  as  many  of  them 
are — then  cabby's  hat  will  be  white,  with  an  old-gold 
band  on  it;  and  often  you  will  notice,  as  the  last  straw 
which  the  most  exacting  fancy  could  desire,  that  this 


68  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

captivating  French  Jehu  will  be  so  mindful  of  artistic 
effects  as  to  have  a  border  of  the  same  shade  on  the 
carriage-robe  he  wraps  about  him.  This  is  decidedly 
Parisian,  and  is  a  fair  sample  of  Paris  life  in  all  its 
varied  aspects. 


VI. 

THE  STREETS  OF  PARIS. 

IN  our  study  of  the  material  aspects  of  Paris  it  has 
been  a  perennial  source  of  pleasure,  and  a  very  great 
help,  to  find  at  every  corner,  within  easy  focus  of  the 
sidewalk,  signs  of  uniform  appearance,  announcing  in 
distinct  characters  the  names  of  the  various  streets.  In 
this  matter  the  authorities  have  been  so  exact  that,  in 
making  your  way  about,  you  feel  like  thanking  them  at 
every  turn.  And  it  is  equally  gratifying  to  find  that 
the  houses  have  been  so  carefully  numbered,  and  that 
the  numerals  which  mark  them,  instead  of  running  con- 
tinuously on  one  side  of  the  street  and  then  jumping  to 
the  other  side  and  starting  back,  as  they  do  in  many 
other  Continental  cities,  are  arranged  here  on  the  con- 
venient American  plan  of  odds  and  evens  opposite  to 
each  other. 

Two  things,  however,  have  given  us  a  little  trouble. 
One  is,  that  the  numbers  change  so  slowly,  and  that  in 
searching  for  a  particular  domicile  or  shop  one  has  to 
travel  so  far  before  reaching  it.  Speaking  generally, 
Parisian  houses  are  all  large.  This  is  because  they  are 
nearly  all  built  for  apartment  houses.  The  typical 
Parisian  lives  in  a  flat.  He  will  never  speak  to  you  of 

69 


70  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

his  home  or  his  house,  and  iu  fact  the  use  of  such  terms 
would  be  monstrously  egotistical  on  his  part;  for  the 
house  he  lives  in  is  occupied,  as  a  rule,  by  a  dozen  other 
families.  Hence  your  home  in  Paris  is  always  referred 
to — allowing  for  exceptions — as  your  appartement. 

As  for  the  typical  Parisian  house,  this  is  really  a 
block  of  houses  extending  around  a  court.  It  has  a 
frontage  of  from  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet,  and  stretches  back  a  greater  distance  still.  In 
height  it  is  six  stories,  with  another  story  in  the  roof. 
The  windows  are  deep,  and  they  all  open  like  doors, 
window-sash  being  apparently  quite  unknown  here. 
The  only  entrance  from  the  street  is  a  central  archway. 
Penetrating  this,  you  come  at  once  to  the  lodge  of  the 
care-taker,  or  concierge.  A  little  beyond,  on  both  sides, 
are  large  stairways.  If  you  pass  into  the  courtyard 
you  will  find  other  stairways ;  and  by  means  of  these,  if 
you  have  a  very  good  pair  of  legs,  you  may  hope  to  find 
your  way  gradually  into  the  different  compartments  and 
rooms.  Such  a  house  as  this  you  can  see  anywhere  in 
Paris.  It  is  the  prevailing  type.  Rich  and  poor  alike 
live  in  houses  modeled  upon  this  plan.  And  it  is  only 
the  truth  to  say  that  if  the  reader  will  take  our  little 
sketch,  and  vary  it  somewhat — bearing  in  mind  that 
nearly  all  the  houses  in  this  city  have  stone-fronts,  real 
or  imitation,  that  they  all  look  as  much  alike  as  peas 
in  the  same  pod,  and  that  there  are  a  sufficient  num- 
ber of  them  to  pack  closely  some  three  or  four  thou- 


THE  STREETS  OF  PARIS.  71 

sand  streets — he  will  have  before  him  a  tolerably  correct 
view  of  what  Paris  is  as  a  place  of  residence. 

The  other  thing  which  troubles  you  a  little  in  find- 
ing your  way  about  Paris  is  the  mania  which  the  city 
fathers  have  developed  for  hauling  down  familiar  street- 
names,  and  putting  new  ones  up  in  their  places.  It  is 
quite  true  that  the  names  of  the  streets  are  in  full  view 
at  every  turning;  but  it  does  n't  at  all  follow  that  the 
name  you  see  to-day  is  the  one  your  map  gives,  or  the 
one  which  was  there  yesterday.  It  is  affirmed,  as  an 
extreme  instance,  that  the  name  of  one  street  was 
changed  three  times  within  six  mouths.  The  cause  of 
this  mania  must  be  looked  for  in  the  extreme  radical 
and  secularistic  sentiments  of  the  municipal  Council. 
These  are  republican  times;  hence  names  which  stand 
for  monarchy  and  oppression  must  give  place  to  those 
those  symbolizing  progress  and  liberty. 

It  is  also  an  era  when  the  Catholic  Church  is  not 
the  supreme  power  it  used  to  be — when,  in  fact,  it  has 
become  the  fate  of  that  Church  to  receive  from  "the 
powers  that  be"  annoyances  rather  than  favors.  Nat- 
urally, therefore,  the  names  of  numerous  saints  have  had 
to  go.  Paris,  however,  is  still  sufficiently  blessed,  one 
would  think,  in  the  latter  respect.  How  many  saints' 
names  have  been  hauled  down,  we  are  not  apprised ; 
but  of  the  number  remaining  we  have  satisfied  ourselves 
by  a  study  of  the  Directory,  our  researches  showing 
that  the  rues,  boulevards,  squares  or  places,  in  this  city, 


72  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

which  are  still  dignified  by  the  name  of  some  saint  or 
saiutess,  amount  in  all  to  about  an  even  hundred. 

In  regard  to  the  naming  of  streets,  that  which  es- 
pecially delights  the  visitor  from  America  is  to  find  that 
several  Parisian  thoroughfares  are  named  after  the  dis- 
tinguished men  of  his  own  country.  There  is  a  Rue 
Washington,  and,  as  every  American  would  have  wished, 
to  keep  that  company  there  is  a  Rue  Lincoln.  These, 
of  course,  are  in  what  is  called,  by  courtesy,  the  Amer- 
ican Quarter.  Which  reminds  us,  however,  that  the 
American  colony  in  Paris  is  not  so  large  as  is  generally 
supposed,  our  authority  for  this  statement  being  a 
high  official  at  the  American  Legation  here.  "How 
many  Americans  are  resident  in  Paris  during  the  winter 
season?"  This  was  our  question;  the  gentleman's  reply 
being  that  estimates  which  put  the  number  at  twenty 
thousand,  or  even  at  ten  thousand,  were  wild  exaggera- 
tions. He  was  sure,  indeed,  that  if  the  census  were 
confined  to  those  settled  here  for  several  months,  it 
could  not  be  placed  truthfully  at  more  than  five 
thousand. 

The  American  Quarter  is  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Hon- 
ore,  that  most  beautiful  part  of  Paris  which  embraces 
the  Presidential  Palace,  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe.  In  this  quarter,  or  very  near  to  it, 
you  find  Churches  holding  service  in  English  to  the 
number  of  a  dozen  or  more.  Two  of  these  are  Amer- 
ican Churches.  Dr.  Thurber,  formerly  of  Syracuse, 


THE  STREETS  OF  PARIS.  73 

New  York,  officiates  at  the  pretty  sanctuary  in  the  Rue 
de  Berri.  This  is  a  sort  of  Union  Church.  But  the 
more  stately  building,  in  Ave  de  1'Alma,  is  of  the  Epis- 
copal faith,  the  rector  being  Dr.  Morgan,  who  has  re- 
cently, by  the  way,  established  a  mission  for  the  benefit 
of  American  students  in  the  Quartier  Latin.  It  is 
gratifying  to  add  that  a  deep  interest  is  taken  in 
American  students  by  both  these  Churches,  and  that 
the  two  clergymen  regard  this  as  the  most  vital  feature 
of  their  work.  Dr.  Thurber  is  pushing  successfully 
a  worthy  plan  for  a  new  church-house.  The  prop- 
erty he  wishes  to  acquire  adjoins  the  church  itself. 
It  will  be  used  primarily  as  a  parsonage,  but  its  second- 
ary function  will  be  as  a  sort  of  social  and  religious 
headquarters  for  that  interesting  section  of  the  Ameri- 
can colony  which  is  rounding  off  its  artistic  education  in 
this  city. 

Recurring  to  the  streets  of  this  wonderful  city,  the 
features  one  feels  most  inclined  to  dwell  upon  are  such 
unique  effects  as  you  see  in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  where, 
for  thirteen  blocks,  you  pass  under  a  canopied  sidewalk, 
with  tempting  shop-windows  on  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other  broad  archways  opening  toward  the  Garden  of  the 
Tuileries.  Then'  there  are  the  numerous  Passages,  or 
Arcades,  which  are  so  distinctively  a  Parisian  feature 
that  they  open  to  you  in  the  most  unlikely  places,  and 
seem  often  so  sorry  to  have  you  leave  them,  that  after 
ending  their  course  on  one  side  of  the  street,  they  im- 


74  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

mediately  begin  it  again  on  the  other  side.  Then,  too, 
there  is  the  marvelous  Palais  Royal,  combining  the  best 
features  of  both  the  Rue  de  Rivoli  and  the  Arcades. 
What  other  city  is  there  which  can  show  you  such  a  place 
as  that,  with  its  striking  architectural  effects,  its  long 
array  of  jewelry-stores,  its  rich  historical  associations, 
and  its  thriving  trade  in  articles  of  luxury  and  adorn- 
ment? 

Still  other  wonderful  features  of  this  captivating  city 
are  the  length,  breadth,  and  arrow-like  straightness  of 
some  of  its  leading  thoroughfares.  One  never  wearies 
in  his  admiration  of  such  Parisian  effects  as  these;  and 
here  again  it  is  Paris  against  the  world.  The  Boule- 
vard Voltaire  extends,  in  a  perfect  line,  from  the  Place 
de  la  Republique  to  the  Place  de  la  Nation,  which  is  two 
miles;  and  for  the  eye  to  traverse  this  distance,  either 
by  gaslight  or  daylight,  is  an  experience  never  to  be 
forgotten.  Another  fine  vista  of  a  mile  and  a  half  is 
afforded  by  the  Boulevard  Magenta;  and  still  another, 
almost  as  long,  by  the  splendid  boulevards  of  Sevastopol 
and  Strasbourg;  while,  if  it  were  not  for  a  slight  rise 
of  ground  at  the  center  and  the  obstruction  of  your 
view  by  the  Arc  de  Triomphe,  you  might  stand  at  the 
Place  de  la  Concorde,  and  follow  with  your  eye,  always 
looking  in  a  straight  line,  first  the  Ave.  des  Champs 
Elysees,  then  the  Ave.  de  la  Grande  Arme*e,  after  that 
and  beyond  the  city  gates  the  Ave.  de  Neuilly,  and 
finally  the  Ave.  de  la  Defense  de  Paris,  until  you  saw 


THE  STREETS  OF  PARIS.  75 

the  Bronze  Monument,  from  which  the  last  of  these 
avenues  takes  its  name, — the  whole  distance  being  four 
and  a  half  miles! 

One  marvels  that,  after  the  late  unpleasantness,  there 
should  remain  in  Paris  a  street  bearing  the  name  of 
Germany.  So  it  is,  however;  though  the  soft  French 
tongue  calls  this  street  the  Rue  d'Allemagne.  Possibly 
this  name  is  retained  for  the  same  reason  that  the  an- 
cients were  wont  to  seat  a  skeleton  at  their  banqueting- 
tables;  namely,  as  a  reminder  to  Parisian  citizens  of 
their  impending  conflict  with  a  powerful  enemy.  It  can 
hardly,  however,  symbolize  to  them  all  that  a  skeleton 
would  imply;  for,  far  from  expecting  to  go  under  when 
they  meet  Germany  for  a  second  tussle,  they  are  san- 
guine of  a  great  triumph.  But  as  to  this  street  of 
Germany,  we  have  referred  to  it  because,  with  its  con- 
necting thoroughfare — Rue  La  Fayette — it  affords  an- 
other striking  instance  of  the  many  beautiful  streets  in 
Paris  which  stretch  out  to  great  lengths  in  a  straight 
line,  the  distance  in  this  case  being  three  miles  and  a 
quarter. 

To  get  a  passing  view,  in  the  shortest  possible  time 
and  for  the  smallest  outlay,  of  the  principal  places  of 
interest  in  Paris,  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  take  a  penny 
ride  on  the  Seine.  Think  of  it!  Five  and  a  half 
miles  for  only  two  cents,  and  a  moving  panorama  as 
you  skim  along — the  view  being  at  close  range  withal — 
of  the  Jardin  des  Plautes,  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  the  Palais 


76  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

de  Justice,  the  Louvre,  the  Institut,  the  Chainbre  des 
Deputies,  the  Hotel  des  Invalides.  Tour  Eiffel,  and  the 
Trocadero!  This  is  another  respect  in  which  Paris  beats 
the  world.  The  Seine  is  insignificant  in  comparison 
with  the  Thames,  but  you  can  see  as  you  travel  on  it 
far  more  objects  of  interest  than  a  penny  ride  on  the 
London  river  will  reveal  to  you;  and,  added  to  all, 
there  is  the  delightful  sensation  of  passing  beneath 
twenty -five  bridges  during  this  cheap  ride. 


VII. 

SOME  PARISIAN  NOVELTIES. 

THAT  the  city  which  is  the  shopping-center  of  Eu- 
rope, and  which  annually  attracts  to  itself  so  many 
thousands  of  purchasers  from  America,  should  have  in 
it  the  largest  retail  emporium  to  be  found  anywhere  in 
the  world,  seems  to  accord  perfectly  with  the  natural 
fitness  of  things.  This  is  the  Bon  Marche — Cheap 
Market;  and  it  may  safely  be  said  that  of  all  the  ob- 
jects of  interest  which  Paris  shows  with  pardonable 
pride  to  its  throngs  of  admiring  visitors,  this  is  the  one 
which  exerts  the  greatest  fascination  over  the  feminine 
mind,  and  the  one,  moreover,  which,  from  the  fact  just 
mentioned,  has  the  most  depleting  effect  upon  the  mascu- 
line pocket-book.  "VVe  were  told  at  Whiteley's  big  store 
in  London  that  we  could  buy  there  anything  from  a 
toothpick  to  an  elephant.  It  was  also  impressed  upon 
us  that,  if  we  were  in  need  of  such  a  luxury,  the  pro- 
prietor would  take  an  order  to  supply  us  with  a  wife ; 
and  that  to  furnish  young  men  as  dancers  at  evening 
parties,  where  the  male  sex  would  otherwise  be  inade- 
quately represented,  was  a  trade  novelty  in  which  that 
house  did  quite  a  thriving  business.  We  have  not  dis- 
covered that  the  Bon  Marche  dabbles  in  such  eccen- 
tricities as  these,  but  it  surely  offers  variety  enough 

77 


78  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

and  what  makes  one's  patronage  of  the  place  peculiarly 
satisfactory  is  that,  in  a  city  where  tradesmen  generally 
seem  inclined  to  make  you  pay  well  for  the  misfortune 
of  not  being  a  native,  and  where,  to  a  very  large  ex- 
tent, the  shops  still  do  business  on  the  bargain-and-barter 
system,  this  shop  stands  out  as  the  most  conspicuous  of 
a  very  few  where  fixed  prices  prevail,  where  the  notice, 
"English  spoken,"  does  not  turn  out  to  be  a  snare,  and 
where  Americans  stand  on  an  equal  footing  with  French- 
men at  the  cashier's  desk. 

Speaking,  however,  of  the  cashier's  desk  and  of  the 
privileges  enjoyed  there,  reminds  us  of  the  curious  fact 
that  in  Parisian  shops  the  system  of  paying  at  the  desk 
is  so  universal  that  even  the  Bon  Marche  does  not  vary 
from  it.  The  clerk  who  waits  upon  you  escorts  you  to 
this  point  of  interest,  and  while  one  person  receives 
your  payment,  another,  not  far  away,  wraps  up  your 
purchase;  and  during  all  this  time  you  are  still  under 
the  protecting  care  of  the  salesman,  who  finally  leaves 
you  only  when  you  are  in  safe  possession  of  both  your 
change  and  your  package,  and  are  yourself  taking  leave 
of  the  store.  To  those  who  have  been  wont  to  look  up 
in  bewilderment  while  goods  and  money  are  flying  auto- 
matically across  the  ceiling,  this  Parisian  method  ap- 
pears to  be  old-fogyish  and  decidedly  slow.  You  won- 
der, too,  how  such  a  dilly-dallying  on  the  part  of 
salesmen  can  ever  pay.  But  in  Europe  clerk-hire  is  so 
low  that  it  is  cheaper  in  some  cases  than  labor-saving 


SOME  PARISIAN  NOVELTIES.  79 

machinery;  and  as  to  the  time  consumed,  you  do  not 
find  in  practice  that  it  is  very  great,  while  in  stores  like 
the  Bon  Marche,  the  aisles  of  which  are  always  thronged, 
there  is  a  decided  advantage  in  removing  the  purchaser 
to  another  part  when  his  order  has  been  filled,  because 
by  that  means  additional  room  is  left  for  customers  who 
have  yet  to  be  served. 

Like  nearly  all  great  enterprises,  this  big  Parisian 
shop  was  built  up  from  the  most  humble  beginnings. 
Its  projector  was  originally  a  peddler.  Coming  to  Paris 
with  a  little  capital — and  with  that  which  was  still  bet- 
ter, namely,  a  wife  who,  like  most  French  women,  had 
a  genius  for  business — he  established  himself  before  long 
in  a  shop  forty  feet  square,  and,  by  the  new  fad  of  fixed 
prices  and  small  profits,  he  gradually  extended  his  op- 
erations until  the  peddler's  pack  he  carried  at  his  death 
was  commensurate  with  one  of  the  biggest  blocks  in 
Paris,  representing  a  fabulous  capital  and  an  annual 
profit  of  millions  of  francs.  For  ten  years  after  that, 
his  widow  carried  on  the  business,  the  volume  of  trade 
still  swelling  and  the  profits  still  piling  up,  until,  in 
1888,  she  also  died,  the  mammoth  peddler's  pack  falling 
then  upon  those  younger  shoulders,  which,  with  equal  suc- 
cess and  with  increasing  gain,  are  sustaining  it  at  the 
present  day. 

But  thereby  hangs  a  tale,  aud^one'of  the  teuderest 
human  interest — a  tale  which,  in  these  days  of  big  for- 
tunes and  little  souls,  ought  to  be  proclaimed  with 


80  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

trumpet  voice  in  every  market-place  and  along  every 
avenue  of  commerce.  The  Bon  Marche  is  not  only  a 
big  business  establishment,  but  a  grand  philanthropic 
enterprise.  Aristide  Boucicaut  and  his  good  wife,  Mar- 
guerite, besides  leaving  the  biggest  shop  in  the  world, 
have  left  to  all  the  world  an  example  of  good  works. 
Rarely  has  there  been  seen  a  greater  aptitude  for  gather- 
ing enormous  profits  from  legitimate  trade;  and  for  the 
lavish  and  practical  way  iu~which_the  earnings  of  this 
big  business  were  turned  back  to  benefit  dependents  and 
to  bless  a  great  city,  the  conduct  of  these  Parisian  shop- 
keepers has  never  been  equaled.  The  principles  which 
governed  them  were,  that  the  first  sharers  in  their  vast 
success  ought  to  be  the  faithful  employees  who  helped 
to  achieve  it,  and  that  after  that  they  must  remember 
substantially  the  community  which  had  ^favored  them 
with  its  confidence  and  1  patronage.  Hence  princely 
bounties  at  odd  times  for  deserving  clerks,  and  for  a 
large  number  a  partnership  in  the  concern.  Instead  of 
fines  for  the  infraction  of  trivial  rules,  a  trust  in  the 
honor  of  the  three  or  four  thousand  dependents,  such  as 
put  every  one  upon  his  mettle,  and  inspired  all  with  love 
and  respect  for  the  management.  For  the  men  after 
twenty  years  of  service,  and  the  women  after  fifteen 
years,  a  comfortable  pension,  with  all  the  care  of  father- 
hood and  motherhood — all  the  comforts  and  many  of 
the  luxuries  of  a  good  home — while  this  pension  was 
being  earned.  This  for  employees ;  nor  has  the  half 


SOME  PARISIAN  NOVELTIES.  81 

been  told ;  while  the  city  of  Paris  benefits  to  the  extent 
of  a  great  central  hospital,  and  a  large  poor-fund  which 
ministers  blessing  in  every  one  of  its  twenty  Arron- 
dissemente. 

One  thing  brings  up  another,  and  our  reference  to 
the  hospital  founded  by  the  Boucicauts  reminds  us  of 
another  Parisian  curiosity — Pasteur's  celebrated  Institute 
for  the  treatment  of  hydrophobia.  After  our  observa- 
tions in  Paris  we  do  not  wonder  that  inoculation 
against  dog-bites  had  its  origin  in  this  city ;  nor  that  it 
finds  here  an  annual  quota  of  from  two  to  four  hun- 
dred who  are  needing  to  be  operated  upon.  The  help- 
lessness of  French  femininity  is  something  enormous,  if 
one  may  judge  from  the  vast  number  of  females  who 
seem  to  require  canine  assistance  in  getting  about  the 
streets.  We  were  confidentially  assured  in  London  that 
many  of  the  dogs  in  that  city  find  an  untimely  destina- 
tion in  sausage-meat;  and  one  almost  wishes  that  a 
similar  fate,  or  some  other  that  would  lessen  their  num- 
ber perceptibly,  might  be  visited  upon  the  same  species 
in  Paris.  But  here  they  are,  so  far,  in  all  varieties,  and 
in  the  greatest  possible  profusion;  and  here,  happily,  is 
an  effectual  antidote  against  their  bite.  The  number  of 
patients  treated  last  year  was  1,559,  and  the  deaths 
were  four.  This  is  a  death-rate  of  only  one-fourth  per 
cent,  which  is  nearly  four  times  as  good  a  showing  as 
the  Institute  made  at  first,  in  1886;  and  it  is  gratifying 

to  observe  that  this  diminution  in  the  number  of  fatal- 

6 


82  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

ities  has  been  going  on  gradually  with  each  succeeding 
year. 

That  the  mind  should  turn  toward  churches  after 
dwelling  upon  hospitals,  dog-bites,  death,  and  other 
alarming  things,  is  only  natural;  and,  to  our  thinking, 
the  greatest  curiosity  among  the  churches  of  Paris  is 
the  Notre  Dame  des  Victoires.  It  does  not  impress  the 
Protestant  very  favorably  that  this  church  should  have 
been  built  to  commemorate  the  fall  of  La  Rochelle,  the 
great  stronghold  of  the  Huguenots.  We  could  have 
wished  for  that  conflict  a  different  result  altogether; 
and  so,  for  that  matter,  might  we  reasonably  wish — 
speaking  still  from  a  Protestant  point  of  view7 — that  the 
church  itself  were  somewhat  different.  But  for  the  de- 
vout of  Paris  it  has  wonderful  attractions,  and  in  some 
features  it  has  not  its  like  in  Christendom.  Beyond  all 
other  Parisian  churches  it  is  held  by  the  Catholic  mind 
to  be,  what  its  name  indicates,  the  shrine  of  Our  Lady 
of  Victory,  and  the  troubled  in  mind  flock  to  it  from 
feelings  similar  to  those  with  which  the  sick  and  dying 
crowd  the  altar  of  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes. 

What  adds  largely  to  the  interest  attaching  to  this 
church  is  the  fact  that  it  is  a  favorite  shrine  of  the  ex- 
Empress  Eugenie.  One  sees  there  the  seven  lamps  she 
caused  to  be  lighted  in  the  first  shock  of  her  great  trouble ; 
and  if  one  only  knew  just  when  to  go,  he  might  occasion- 
ally find  within  its  precincts,  closely  veiled  and  modestly 
attended,  that  unfortunate  ady  herself.  It  is  said  that 


SOME  PARISIAN  NOVELTIES.  83 

Eugenie  is  a  frequent  visitor  when  in  Paris,  and  that, 
like  thousands  of  other  devotees,  she  believes  the  shrine 
to  have  been  of  peculiar  benefit  to  her.  In  front  of 
the  main  altar  of  this  church  the  light  from  candles  is 
almost  dazzling.  These  candles  are  lighted  separately, 
and  paid  for,  of  course,  by  individuals  who  go  there  to 
ask  special  favors  from  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  occasion- 
ally also  by  those  who  return  thanks  at  this  famous 
shrine  for  some  special  deliverance.  In  Paris  it  is  a 
proverb  that  whenever  a  person  is  signally  favored  by 
Providence — particularly  if  he  should  have  narrowly 
escaped  a  fatal  accident — he  owes  a  big  candle  to  Our 
Lady  of  Victory.  Many  are  they  who  feel  that  more 
than  a  candle  is  due  from  them.  This  church  is  liter- 
ally lined  with  memorials  of  gratitude.  Ceilings,  walls, 
and  pillars,  in  every  direction  you  look,  are  nothing  but 
an  endless  succession  of  memorial  slabs.  If  the  prayer 
you  offer  for  special  help  is  answered,  then  you  may 
commemorate  this  fact  in  marble,  the  size  of  your  me- 
morial to  be  regulated,  of  course,  by  the  dimensions  of 
your  purse.  This  is  the  fashion  at  Notre  Dame  des 
Victoires;  and  it  is  this,  with  the  fact  of  its  being  a  re- 
pository for  so  many  emblems  placed  in  it  by  soldiers  to 
commemorate  their  escape  from  death  in  the  Franco- 
Prussian  War,  which  makes  the  church  an  object  of  such 
supreme  curiosity  to  all  sight-seers. 

You   are  sure   to   be  appealed   to  in  behalf  of  the 
poor  in  making  your  exit  from  one  of  the  churches  of 


84  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

Paris;  and  in  harmony  with  such  a  reminder  as  this,  we 
take  our  readers,  in  search  of  further  Parisian  curios- 
ities, to  oiie  of  the  quarters  where  large  numbers  of  the 
poor  eke  out  their  subsistence.  It  is  toward  Ivry  we  go, 
the  name  suggesting  that  great  battle  in  which  the  white 
plume  of  Navarre  figured  so  prominently,  and  where 
victory  for  a  time  perched  on  the  banners  of  Protestant- 
ism. But  there  are  few  plumes  at  Ivry  now,  white  or 
otherwise.  Feathers  are  at  a  discount,  even  in  Paris, 
when  the  struggle  of  life  is  as  hard  as  it  is  in  this 
quarter.  Here  we  see  with  our  own  eyes,  for  the  first 
time,  a  boucJierie  hippophagique,  which  means  a  butcher's 
shop  where  horse,  mule,  and  donkey  meat  is  sold.  There 
can  be  no  mistaking  this  place,  for  it  has  a  horse's  head 
hung  out  for  a  sign,  as  all  such  shops  have;  while  the 
butcher's  shop  across  the  way  proclaims  its  superior 
grade  by  displaying  a  cow's  head.  There  are  nearly 
two  hundred  horse-meat  shops  in  Paris,  and  the  con- 
sumption of  this  sort  of  food  last  year  was:  Horses, 
21,291;  donkeys,  275;  mules,  61.  A  local  economist 
has  estimated  that  horse-flesh  is  the  staple  food  in  one 
out  of  every  three  of  the  households  of  Paris.  This  is 
decidedly  tough — this  way  of  living,  we  mean,  not 
necessarily  the  horse-flesh.  That,  I  am  sure,  could 
hardly  be  any  tougher  than  some  of  the  American  beef 
we  have  experimented  upon;  and,  besides,  the  gentle- 
man with  us,  who  has  tasted  this  Parisian  staple,  pro- 
nounces it  very  good. 


SOME  PARISIAN  NOVELTIES.  85 

We  are  also  introduced  in  this  quarter  to  a  Rag-pickers 
Cite.  We  shudder  as  we  glance  at  the  rickety,  one- 
story  houses,  with  their  dirt-floors,  skirting  a  yard  in 
which  the  pickings  of  the  previous  night  are  hung  out 
to  dry ;  and  when  we  remember  that  it  was  only  a  few 
nights  before  that  a  Paris  rag-picker,  in  rummaging 
through  the  city  refuse,  came  upon  the  body  of  a  woman 
cut  up  into  twelve  pieces,  we  shudder  still  more.  An- 
other thing  to  which  our  attention  is  called  reminds  us 
how  very  wise  it  was  in  William  Shakespeare  not  to 
take  much  stock  in  names;  for,  as  if  in  mockery  of  its 
poor  surroundings,  one  of  the  streets  here  is  called 
Rue  du  Chateau  des  Rentiers,  which  means,  in  plain 
English,  the  street  of  the  castle  of  those  who  live  on 
their  means ! 

A  large  sugar-refinery,  and  a  factory  which  turns  out 
a  favorite  brand  of  chocolate,  are  prominent  features  in 
this  quarter;  and  when  you  learn  that  the  thousands  of 
men  employed  in  these  places  are  turned  out  to  support 
their  families  on  the  beggarly  pittance  of  three  or  four 
francs  a  day,  you  scarcely  wonder  that  Parisian  work- 
men have  to  live  on  horse-flesh,  or  that  they  become 
furious  now  and  then  against  capital  and  officialism. 
But  the  greatest  of  all  the  curiosities  is  a  mam- 
moth apartment-house — the  biggest  in  the  world,  so  far 
as  our  present  information  extends.  It  was  built  in 
1869  by  a  philanthropist,  but  the  aspect  it  wears  to-day 
affords  a  striking  instance  of  philanthropy  gone  to  seed. 


86  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

There  are  ten  buildings  connected  with  each  other. 
The  height  is  six  stories;  the  capacity,  ten  thousand 
people;  and  it  is  stated  as  fact  that  in  1875-6  that 
number  of  Jews,  exiled  from  Russia,  were  actually 
sheltered  in  this  tenement  at  the  expense  of  Baron 
Rothschild. 

Its  present  population  does  not  exceed  two  thou- 
sand; and  the  owner,  it  is  said,  has  long  abandoned  all 
hope  of  keeping  it  clean  or  in  decent  repair.  In  their 
attitude  toward  philanthropy  the  workmen  of  Paris  are 
not  so  complacent  as  their  confreres  in  London.  They 
regard  it  as  an  affront,  rather  than  a  kindness,  and  are 
more  likely  to  resent  than  to  be  grateful  for  it.  Nat- 
urally, therefore,  this  model  tenement  has  been  dread- 
fully abused.  But  there  it  stands,  dignified  by  the 
charmingly  suggestive  name  of  Cite  Jeanne  d'Arc;  and, 
with  all  its  dilapidation  and  dirt,  it  is  as  notable  in  its 
way,  and  as*  much  of  a  Parisian  curiosity,  as  any  of  the 
other  things  we  have  described. 


VIII. 

BENEATH  THE  SURFACE  IN  PARIS. 

IN  asking  the  reader  to  accompany  us  in  a  tour  of 
observation  beneath  the  surface  of  Parisian  life,  we 
have  no  intention  of  leading  him  into  the  slums  of 
poverty,  nor  in  search  of  those  low  places,  so  numerous 
in  this  wicked  city,  where  vice  holds  nightly  carnival. 
Neither  have  we  in  view  an  investigation  of  that  mar- 
velous system  of  sewerage  of  which  Paris  so  justly 
vaunts  itself.  We  could  not  think  of  taking  our  friends 
beneath  the  surface  of  this  city  in  the  literal  sense — not 
in  imagination  even — while  the  dread  of  cholera  still 
impends.  Besides,  our  quest  at  this  time  is  for  differ- 
ent things  altogether,  and  for  far  better  things.  What 
we  propose  is  a  glance  at  some  of  the  agencies  which 
are  working  quietly  for  the  social  and  moral  improve- 
ment of  Paris,  and  our  reason  for  looking  beneath  the 
surface  for  agencies  of  this  description  is  that,  unfor- 
tunately, unless  we  did  so  we  might  fail  to  find  some  of 
them;  for  the  aspect  of  Paris  to  the  transient  visitor, 
who  has  an  eye  only  for  that  which  is  most  apparent,  is 
one  of  decided  frivolity  and  worldliness.  To  find  the 
better  things,  one  must  investigate  and  inquire.  This 
is  true  in  regard  to  almost  every  city;  but  it  will  be  no 

exaggeration   to  say  that,  as  applied  to  Paris,  this  dis- 

87 


88  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

couraging  axiom  is  more  fully  and  more  sadly  true  than 
of  any  other  city  in  the  world. 

•We  should  hesitate  to  affirm  that  Paris  has  any  more 
downright  wickedness  in  it  than  London.  We  question 
if,  from  the  moral  point  of  view,  she  would  be  found  to 
be  any  worse  than  London,  even  when  due  allowance 
had  been  made  for  the  enormous  disproportion  in  the 
size  of  the  cities.  But  London,  spite  of  all  its  sins  and 
shortcomings,  is  known  everywhere  as  a  great  center  of 
religious  and  reformatory  work.  She  is  as  much  dis- 
tinguished by  the  effort  she  makes  to  improve  her  con- 
dition as  by  the  things  in  her  life  which  render  such 
efforts  necessary.  That  the  city  on  the  Thames  is  far 
superior  to  this  gay  city  on  the  Seine  in  the  latter  re- 
spect would  be  admitted,  we  should  think,  by  French- 
men themselves.  Yet  even  Paris  has  her  bright  side; 
and,  as  our  glance  beneath  the  surface  will  make  abun- 
dantly clear,  she  is  blessed  with  not  a  few  heroic  souls 
who  are  doing  all  they  can  for  her  social  and  moral 
elevation. 

It  will  be  admitted  by  all  that  the  hope  of  a  city, 
equally  with  that  of  a  nation,  is  in  its  young  men ;  and 
after  seeing  that  the  boulevards  and  cafes  swarm  with 
this  class,  and  that  on  every  hand  they  are  surrounded 
by  the  most  attractive  incitements  to  a  life  of  vice,  we 
have  naturally  been  led  to  inquire  whether  anything  is 
being  done  for  the  young  men  of  Paris  along  moral  and 
religious  lines.  We  have  conversed  with  French  pas- 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE  IN  PARIS.          89 

tors  on  this  subject,  and  the  information  we  have  been 
able  to  elicit,  while  it  is  not  entirely  satisfactory,  is  at 
least  encouraging.  By  one  of  the  best  authorities  in 
Paris  we  have  been  assured  that,  in  Protestant  circles, 
the  interest  manifested  in  the  welfare  of  young  men  is 
one  of  the  most  striking  features  of  present-day  evan- 
gelism. To  put  the  matter  in  the  very  words  in  which 
our  informant  clothed  it:  "There  has  been  more  work 
done  in  behalf  of  young  men  in  the  ten  years  last  past 
than  in  the  forty  years  preceding."  This  was  decidedly 
good,  and  it  whetted  our  appetite  for  further  particulars. 

Inquiring  next  as  to  the  forms  followed  by  this  new 
movement,  we  were  gratified  to  learn  that  in  individual 
Churches  it  is  the  fashion  to  band  young  men  together 
into  prayer-leagues,  and  that  in  many  cases  Christian 
Endeavor  Societies  were  in  operation.  This  reminded 
us  of  the  great  influence  exerted  upon  France  by  that 
which  is  good  in  American  life.  French  Protestantism, 
which  is  heartily  committed  to  the  Republic,  has  nat- 
urally a  sympathetic  eye  for  the  latest  advances  in  our 
own  Republic,  and  one  of  the  practical  results  of  this 
sympathy  is  the  importation  from  our  side  of  the  At- 
lantic of  this  grand  Christian  Endeavor  idea. 

Which  reminds  us,  too,  that,  besides  drawing  moral 
inspiration  from  America,  these  French  Reformers  are 
frequently  favored  from  the  same  source  with  substan- 
tial pecuniary  help.  Of  this,  one  is  afforded  the  strongest 
possible  proof  just  at  this  time  in  the  new  and  com- 


90  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

modious  premises  into  which  the  Young  Men's  Chris- 
tian Association  has  recently  moved.  We  are  speaking 
now  of  the  French  branch  of  this  Association.  There 
is  also,  it  should  be  said,  an  Auglo- American  branch, 
which  conducts  its  meetings  in  English ;  and  this 
branch,  in  the  work  it  does  for  visitors  and  for  those 
who,  though  intending  to  reside  here,  are  still  imperfect 
in  the  language,  can  not  be  too  highly  praised.  But 
the  French  branch  is  the  one  most  needed,  as  it  is  also, 
happily,  much  the  stronger  of  the  two. 

This  enterprise  has  progressed  in  a  manner  which 
augurs  great  things  for  the  future.  Its  former  quarters 
had  long  been  too  circumscribed  for  the  hundreds  of 
young  men  who  flock  to  them,  and  so  apparent  was  this 
to  a  philanthropic  American,  when  he  recently  visited 
the  place,  that  he  offered  a  large  sum  toward  the  purchase 
of  suitable  property  adjacent  to  one  of  the  boulevards. 
The  offer  was  made  conditionally  upon  a  like  sum  being 
raised  in  Paris — a  condition  which  was  promptly  met; 
for  among  the  Protestants  in  this  city  are  several  lead- 
ing bankers;  and  these,  with  others  not  so  wealthy,  came 
forward",  in  response  to  the  generous  challenge  from  our 
fellow-countryman,  with  a  promptness  and  liberality 
which,  besides  being  highly  creditable  to  the  individuals 
themselves,  are  especially  gratifying  because  of  the  prac- 
tical illustration  they  afford  of  the  new  interest  shown 
by  Parisians  in  the  well-being  of  young  men. 

The  many  students  who  are  attracted  to  Paris  form 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE  IN  PARIS.          91 

a  class  by  themselves,  and,  if  common  report  has  not 
basely  slandered  them,  a  class  which  is  distinguished  for 
rather  loose  habits.  At  the  present  time  the  several 
faculties  of  law,  medicine,  science,  literature,  and  phar- 
macy are  attended  by  about  twelve  thousand ;-  and  in 
addition  to  these  are  the  hosts  of  young  men  who  are 
fitting  themselves  for  an  artistic  career.  The  Paris 
student  is  easily  recognized.  In  head-gear  he  will  allow 
himself  nothing  more  conventional  than  the  slouch  hat; 
and  in  the  style  in  which  he  prefers  to  wear  this  hat, 
with  a  decided  tilt  on  one  side  and  an  irregular  de- 
pression at  the  top,  it  looks  very  slouchy  indeed.  The 
general  run  of  students  are  cigarette  fiends  of  the  worst 
description ;  and,  what  is  still  more  to  be  regretted, 
they  seem  to  tarry  long  at  the  wine-cup,  and  to  show  a 
decided  liking  for  such  seductive  decoctions  as  absinthe, 
to  say  nothing  of  other  lamentable  traits  and  tendencies. 
Such  things  as  these,  so  sadly  indicative  of  the  perils 
of  the  Paris  student  and  of  the  need  there  is  for  earnest 
efforts  to  guard  and  save  him,  the  visitor  to  this  city 
can  see  constantly  without  the  least  effort.  They  are 
the  bad  features  of  the  situation;  and,  as  is  customary 
with  that  which  is  evil,  they  are  assertive,  obtrusive, 
and  always  in  evidence.  Had  the  reader,  however, 
gone  with  us  one  night  beneath  the  surface — or,  in  other 
words,  over  to  the  Rue  St.  Jacques,  in  the  Latin  Quarter — 
guided  by  directions  from  those  who  know  where  to  look 
for  the  better  things  in  this  big  city,  he  would  have 


92  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

seen  and  heard  something  of  the  bright  side  of  student- 
life.  Our  destination  was  the  office  of  that  progressive 
and  devout  Frenchman,  Pastor  Monnier,  and  our  ob- 
ject, to  learn  something  of  his  new  enterprise  in  behalf 
of  young  men.  This  is  but  one  of  several  similar  move- 
ments. The  Catholics  are  busy  along  the  same  lines, 
and  are  really  the  pioneers  in  this  field.  But  Pastor 
Mouuier's  work  is  a  fair  sample  of  .all  enterprises  of 
this  kind,  and  as  it  is  a  Protestant  undertaking,  we 
naturally  select  it  for  special  mention. 

The  design  is  to  afford  cozy,  well-lighted  rooms  in 
which,  under  Christian  auspices,  the  students  of  Paris 
can  spend  their  evenings;  where,  with  the  daily  paper 
or  a  wholesome  selection  from  the  books  provided,  a  cup 
of  coffee  can  be  enjoyed  without  the  temptation  to  min- 
gle brandy  with  it,  or  any  of  the  other  seductions  of 
the  cafe;  and  where,  moreover,  should  inclination 
prompt,  a  game  of  billiards  can  be  indulged,  with  no 
chance  for  gambling,  and  no  temptation  to  patronize 
the  bar.  These  are  the  main  features,  though,  of 
course,  there  are  others,  some  of  which  have  in  view 
not  merely  the  screening  of  young  men  from  tempta- 
tion, but  the  culture  of  their  intellectual  tastes,  and  the 
development  in  a  Christian  way  of  the  feelings  and 
character. 

In  his  general  opinion  of  the  life  of  students  in  Paris, 
Pastor  Monnier  could  only  confirm  what  we  had  heard 
from  other  sources,  and  had  verified  abundantly  by  our 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE  IN  PARIS.          93 

own  observations.  The  seductiveness  of  Paris,  he  said, 
was  enormous;  and  the  great  mass  of  the  young  men, 
he  sadly  feared,  were  led  astray.  "But  there  are  ex- 
ceptions," he  observed — and  we  shall  quite  fail  to  do 
justice  to  this  worthy  man  if  we  do  not  lay  special  stress 
upon  this  fact — "  there  are  many  noble  exceptions. 
Most  of  the  students  who  frequent  our  rooms  are  lead- 
ing good  aud  pure  lives,  and  some  of  them  are  fervent 
in  good  works."  This  testimony  he  repeated,  as  though 
he  loved  to  dwell  upon  it,  and  wished  it  to  be  well 
known;  and  when  we  asked  him,  as  a  point  of  curious 
interest,  what  class  of  students  had  appeared  to  him  to 
furnish  the  largest  quota  of  these  exceptional  cases,  he 
replied  without  hesitation — surprising  us  a  little,  and 
gratifying  us  still  more — that  the  most  devout  young 
men  he  had  met,  thus  far,  were  in  attendance  upon  the 
Scientific  Faculty. 

Here,  we  found,  was  another  institution  which  draws 
a  part  of  its  support  from  America — a  discovery  which 
affected  us  somewhat  differently  from  the  one  just  men- 
tioned ;  that  is,  it  gratified  but  did  not  surprise  us. 
How  could  it,  with  the  knowledge  we  have  that  nearly 
all  good  causes  over  here  are  favored  in  precisely  the 
same  way?  And  naturally,  in  this  connection,  our 
thoughts  revert  to  what  is  known  as  the  McAll  Mission. 
So  popular  is  this  with  the  best  classes  in  the  United 
States  that  we  are  annually  helping  it  to  the  extent  of 
between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  dollars;  and  so  much 


94  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

steadier  is  the  American  grip  upon  this  work  than  that 
of  the  country  which  started  it  that,  while  the  annual 
contributions  in  England  are  declining  a  little,  ours 
show,  from  year  to  year,  an  unvarying  increase. 

The  McAll  Mission  is  another  of  those  reformatory 
agencies  which  must  be  looked  for  beneath  the  surface 
of  this  great  city's  life.  It  will  not  welcome  you  at  the 
railway  station,  nor  parade  itself  before  you  on  the 
boulevards,  nor  trumpet  its  doings  in  your  ears  as  you 
lounge  about  the  corridors  of  Parisian  hotels.  Which 
reminds  us,  by  the  way,  that  one  generous  American, 
when  he  came  to  Paris  to  see  this  Mission  for  himself, 
and  was  unable  to  learn  at  his  hotel  the  precise  locality 
of  one  of  its  halls  which  had  been  named  in  memory  of 
his  own  daughter,  became  so  disgusted  that  he  withdrew 
his  support.  He  had  thought,  no  doubt,  that  this  hall 
would  be  as  well  known  in  Paris  as  the  Grand  Opera- 
house  or  the  Louvre.  Yet,  how  could  it  be,  when  the 
McAll  Mission  is  a  mission  to  the  poor — a  quiet,  unob- 
trusive evangel  of  gospel  light  and  purity  in  a  great 
city  which,  in  all  its  surface  characteristics,  seems  utterly 
given  up  to  pleasure-seeking  and  display? 

But  this  work  still  thrives,  and  we  do  not  in  the 
least  reflect  upon  the  native  agencies  operating  for  the 
same  end  when  we  declare  that  the  doors  of  its  modest 
conference-halls,  always  opening  from  the  sidewalk  and 
never  higher  than  the  ground-floor  (which  is  wonderful 
in  Paris),  furnish  a  means  of  hope  to  the  unchurched 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE  IN  PARIS.          95 

masses  of  this  city,  such  as  local  effort  might  not  have 
been  able  to  present  for  years  to  come.  Not  in  Paris 
alone,  but  in  other  large  towns  of  France,  is  this  Mis- 
sion doing  its  gracious  work;  and  latterly,  by  means  of 
a  mission-boat,  called  Bon  Messager,  it  has  begun  a 
cruise  of  the  beautiful  rivers  of  France  in  the  interest 
of  the  villages  and  hamlets,  everywhere  meeting  with  a 
warm  welcome,  and  always,  in  the  results  it  produces, 
justifying  the  view  of  that  prefect  of  one  of  the  depart- 
ments, who  declared:  "Wherever  the  McAll  mission- 
aries go,  fewer  police  are  needed." 

Before  us,  as  we  write,  is  a  statistical-table  of  the 
twenty  years'  work  of  this  Mission,  and  we  note  from 
year  to  year  a  steady  increase  in  every  department — the 
exhibit  for  1891  being  as  follows:  Number  of  stations, 
136;  sittings,  18,182;  meetings  for  adults,  17,213; 
aggregate  attendances,  991,169;  children's  meetings, 
6,567;  aggregate  attendances,  297,504;  total  attend- 
ances at  all  meetings  during  the  year,  1,288,673;  visits, 
29,635;  Bibles,  Testaments,  tracts,  etc.,  circulated, 
566,635;  expenses  for  the  year,  $83,015. 


IX. 
THE  FRENCH  REPUBLIC. 

WE  naturally  look  in  the  French  Republic  for  anal- 
ogies to  our  own,  and  some  such  points  of  sim- 
ilarity we  find;  but  not  nearly  so  many  as  the  identity 
in  name  would  encourage  us  to  expect.  Instead  of 
calling  France  our  sister  Republic,  it  would  be  more 
appropriate  to  speak  of  her  as  a  distant  cousin.  It  is 
quite  true  that  she  has,  as  her  executive  head,  a  Presi- 
dent; and  equally  true  that  she  boasts  a  Senate  and 
House  which  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  ours.  It  is 
true  also  that  both  the  President  and  the  Legislature 
are  creations  of  the  people,  and  that  they  emanate, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  from  the  broad  principle  of 
universal  suffrage.  The  voting  privilege  is  enjoyed  in 
France  by  every  male  citizen  who  has  attained  his  ma- 
jority, the  only  conditions  being  that  he  shall  have  re- 
sided for  six  months  before  election-day  in  the  township 
where  he  proposes  to  exercise  this  privilege,  and  shall 
not  have  entailed  upon  himself,  by  bankruptcy,  crime, 
or  military  service,  any  legal  disability.  The  last  effort 
of  the  French  Assembly  to  restrict  the  franchise  proved 
decidedly  disastrous.  It  was  when,  during  the  Presi- 
dency of  Louis  Napoleon,  three  million  were  excluded 

by  extending  the  residential  requirement  to  three  years. 
96 


THE  FRENCH  REPUBLIC.  97 

The  annulling  of  this  act  was  the  winning  card  in  the 
coup  d'etat,  the  sequel  showing  that  the  French  people 
were  determined  to  retain  their  voting  rights,  even  if 
to  do  so  they  had  to  change  their  form  of  government. 

Aside  from  the  points  of  resemblance  indicated  above, 
the  Republic  of  France  and  the  Republic  of  the  United 
States  have  in  practice  little  real  affinity  with  each 
other.  They  belong  to  the  same  family,  but  show  widely 
divergent  features.  In  cranial  contour  these  sister  Re- 
publics are  much  alike,  as  you  also  find  them  to  be 
when  you  look  at  their  feet,  which  rest  in  both  cases 
upon  manhood  suffrage.  To  carry  our  anatomical  anal- 
ogy still  further,  we  find  also  that  they  are  much  the 
same  in  those  organs  of  vitality  upon  which  the  char- 
acter of  their  legislation  depends.  Perhaps,  too,  the 
arms,  representing  the  executive  agencies,  are  very  sim- 
ilar; for  the  French  President  does  his  work,  just  like 
our  own,  through  a  Cabinet  of  Ministers,  and  these  are 
technically  men  of  his  own  selection.  Here,  however, 
marked  divergences  begin  to  appear;  and  in  pursuing 
the  subject  we  soon  discover  that,  after  all,  the  two  bodies 
are  less  distinguished  Jbr  their  resemblance  to  each  other 
than  for  the  many  things  in  which  they  differ. 

The  French  Republic  is  more  nearly  akin  to  the 
British  Monarchy  than  to  the  form  of  government  under 
which  Americans  live.  The  President  is  wholly  irre- 
sponsible, just  as  the  Queen  is,  the  real  governors  being 
the  members  of  the  Cabinet.  The  French  Cabinet,  too, 


98  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

is  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies, 
and  at  any  moment,  by  a  vote  withdrawing  confidence, 
it  can  be  overthrown.  This  is  decidedly  English;  and 
just  as  the  Queen,  when  one  Cabinet  is  overthrown,  is 
affected  by  such  an  incident  only  to  the  extent  of  hav- 
ing to  set  up  another,  so  it  is  in  theory  with  the  Pres- 
ident of  the  French  Republic.  Naturally,  in  these  cir- 
cumstances, French  Cabinet  Ministers,  like  their  confreres 
in  England,  have  a  seat  and  voice  in  the  legislative 
assemblies.  In  point  of  fact,  French  Ministers  have 
privileges  of  this  kind  superior  to  those  of  the  English. 
When  Mr.  Gladstone  is  Premier  he  can  not  speak  in 
the  Upper  House,  because  he  is  only  a  member  of  the 
Lower  House;  and,  similarly,  Lord  Salisbury,  being 
only  a  member  of  the  Upper  House,  can  not  defend  his 
policy  in  the  House  of  Commons.  But  members  of  the 
French  Cabinet  have  equal  rights  in  both  Houses;  and 
they  are  allowed  to  deliberate  and  speak  in  these  bodies — 
though  not  to  vote — even  when  it  happens,  as  it  occa- 
sionally does,  that  they  are  without  bona  fide  membership 
in  either  the  Senate  or  the  Chamber  of  Deputies. 

In  the  relation  of  French  Ministers  to  the  law-making 
body,  the  difference  between  that  Republic  and  our  own 
is  as  great  as  it  could  possibly  be.  Thus,  while  the 
American  President  will  change  his  Secretaries  one  at  a 
time,  as  circumstances  may  seem  to  demand,  and  will 
sometimes  get  almost  to  the  end  of  his  term  with  the 
staff  selected  at  the  beginning,  and  may  do  this  even 


THE  FRENCH  REPUBLIC.  ->9 

though  his  policy  is  opposed  by  both  branches  of  Con- 
gress, the  French  President  finds  Cabinet-making  one 
of  his  chief  occupations.  It  is  also  a  point  of  peculiar 
peril  in  the  French  system,  for  it  occasionally  happens — as 
it  did  recently  with  President  Caruot — that  the  difficulty 
of  suiting  his  Cabinet  to  the  wishes  and  whims  of  a  fickle 
Chamber  will  make  him  desperate  enough  to  think  of 
resigning.  And  this  reminds  us  of  still  another  differ- 
ence between  the  two  Republics.  It  is  proverbial  of 
our  own  Presidents  ^that  they  die,  but  never  resign ; 
whereas,  in  France,  resignation  is  the  common  Presi- 
dential destiny.  Both  of  M.  Carnot's  immediate  prede- 
cessors went  out  in  this  way;  and  the  lesson  of  this 
coincidence  would^seem  to  be  that  for  a  country  so  given 
to  change  as  France  is,  and  governed  as  she  is,  a  Presi- 
dential term  of  seven  years  is  too  long. 

We  are  decidedly  of  opinion  that  the  French  Repub- 
lic would  gain  in  stability  if  the  term  of  the  President 
were  reduced  to  four  years.  Every  resignation  pro- 
duces a  crisis.  It  shows  clearly  that  the  Constitution  is 
not  an  exact  fit — that  it  fails  to  work  in  just  the  way  it 
was  intended  to  work;  and  when  one  remembers  how 
resignations  are  brought  about,  and  that  they  mean 
usually  nothing  more  than  that  the  French  nation  is 
tired  of  the  same  figure-head,  the  argument  for  a  shorter 
term  becomes  still  stronger.  France,  however,  though 
she  might  profitably  enough  follow  American  initiative 
in  this  matter,  could  hardly  do  so  in  certain  other 


100  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

respects.  To  give  her  Presidents  the  veto  power  would 
be,  in  France,  too  much  like  a  continuance  of  one  of 
the  worst  evils  of  the  old  monarchical  regime;  and,  un- 
less all  traditions  were  belied,  it  would  be  likely  to  laud 
her  before  long  in  the  arms  of  another  emperor.  The 
French  are  right  in  not  trusting  individuals  with  too 
much  power.  They  have  learned  caution  in  such  mat- 
ters from  long  and  bitter  experience. 

Very  wise  are  they,  also,  in  having  excluded  from 
eligibility  to  the  Presidential  office  all  members  of  for- 
mer reigning  families ;  and  we  are  pleased  to  find  that 
such  as  these,  besides  being  ineligible  for  the  Presi- 
dency, are  debarred  by  the  Constitution  from  serving  as 
senators  or  deputies.  The  French  Presidency,  how- 
ever, is  anything  but  an  exclusive  office.  In  theory  it 
is  as  accessible  to  the  French  citizen  as  the  ballot-box 
itself.  There  is  not  even  an  age-limit,  unless  the  attain- 
ment of  one's  majority  may  be  so  called.  To  be  eligible 
for  senator  the  French  citizen  must  be  forty,  and  he 
must  be  not  less  than  twenty-five  before  the  Chamber 
of  Deputies  can  open  to  him;  but  the  Presidency  is 
within  his  reach,  with  absolutely  no  condition  attaching 
to  it  beyond  the  mere  formality  of  getting  elected,  the 
moment  he  is  old  enough  to  vote. 

This  is  decidedly  liberal;  though  whether  French- 
men are  satisfied  that  to  give  them  one  good  chance,  in 
competition  with  ten  millions  of  their  fellow-citizens,  to 
attain  to  the  Presidency  themselves  is  a  sufficient  com- 


THE  FRENCH  REPUBLIC.  101 

peusation  for  depriving  them  of  a  direct  vote  in  the 
filling  of  that  office,  is  a  different  question.  Such,  how- 
ever, is  the  situation  of  the  case;  and  this  is  another 
feature  in  which  the  French  Republic  differs  so  funda- 
mentally from  our  own  as  almost  to  lose  all  kinship 
with  it.  The  French  President  is  chosen  by  a  National 
Assembly — in  other  words,  at  a  joint  session  of  the  Sen- 
ate and  House  of  Deputies — the  only  relation  of  the 
great  mass  of  the  people  to  such  an  event  being  that 
originally,  perhaps  years  before,  they  themselves  elected 
(primarily  for  legislative  duties)  the  men  upon  whom 
now  the  election  of  a  head  of  the  State  devolves.  If 
these  men  had  been  voted  for  in  special  view  of  a 
Presidential  vacancy,  with  due  announcement  on  their 
part  of  the  Presidential  candidates  to  whom  their  sup- 
port would  be  given,  the  system  would  resemble  closely 
our  own.  But  nothing  of  this  kind  occurs;  and  it  is 
questionable  if,  while  the  French  remain  as  excitable  as 
they  are,  our  highly- approved  American  plan,  spite  of 
all  its  checks  and  safeguards,  could  with  safety  be  intro- 
duced here. 

Where  Frenchmen,  in  the  working  of  their  political 
system,  bear  a  decided  resemblance  to  ourselves  is  in  the 
tendency  they  have  shown  to  pass  by  their  strongest 
men,  and  to  exalt  to  Presidential  dignities  respectable 
mediocrity  only.  Jules  Grevy  was  a  retired  lawyer,  his 
chief  recommendation  being  that  he  was  honest  and  not 
a  meddler.  The  only  thing  which  distinguished  M,  Car- 


102  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

not  beyond  thousands  of  other  well-equipped  Frenchmen 
was  the  great  name  he  bore — a  legacy  in  the  second 
degree  from  one  of  the  best  men  of  the  Revolutionary 
era.  la  this  tendency  the  two  Republics  are  consider- 
ably alike;  but  how  different  the  reasons  iu  the  two 
cases!  No  American  is  big  enough  to  imperil  the  Re- 
public simply  by  his  occupancy  of  the  Presidential  chair; 
whereas  experience  has  shown  that  a  man  may  do  this 
in  France  even  if  he  is  not  very  big,  but  only  thinks 
himself  so,  providing  he  has  grit  and  the  prestige  of  a 
little  military  fame.  Because  they  know  this,  and  have 
gained  their  knowledge  of  it  in  so  hard  a  school,  the 
French  are  shy  of  great  men,  and  are  ceasing  to  take 
much  stock  in  great  names. 

[This  is  one  reason,  undoubtedly,  why  Cabinets  fall 
so  often.  Not  the  chief  reason.  That  we  must  look  for 
In  the  want  of  agreement  and  cohesiveness  amongst 
French  Republicans — in  the  fact  that,  instead  of  form- 
ing a  great  party,  the  friends  of  the  Republic  are  di- 
vided into  petty  groups,  who  act  often  from  motives  of 
spite,  and  who,  to  carry  their  point,  do  not  disdain  alli- 
ance with  the  bitterest  Reactionaries.  Here  is  the  chief 
reason  why  the  Ministry  is  so  often  changed.  The  Con- 
servatives, as  they  call  themselves,  are  always  against 
it;  and  when  these  and  the  extreme  Radicals  combine, 
as  they  frequently  do,  down  goes  the  existing  Govern- 
ment. There  is,  however,  as  we  have  hinted,  another 
reason. 


THE  FRENCH  REPUBLIC.  103 

Beneath  all  this  pettiness  and  love  of  change,  there 
is  no  doubt  a  substratum  of  principle.  Not,  perhaps, 
the  highest  principle,  but  one  certainly  Avhich  has  a  little 
patriotism  in  it,  and  a  very  wholesome  amount  of  pru- 
dence as  well.  The  French  are  afraid  of  those  who 
govern  them — afraid  to  give  them  too  much  power,  or 
to  keep  them  too  long  in  office.  They  have  a  mortal 
dread  of  despots,  these  late  years,  and  are  not  a  little  ap- 
prehensive of  demagogues;  and  surely,  with  *he  specters 
of  Napoleon  III,  MacMahon,  and  Boulangtr  rising  out 
of  the  recent  past,  there  is  plenty  of  justification  for  this 
feeling. 

The  salary  of  the  French  President  is  $120,000  a 
year,  and  he  is  allowed  another  $120,000  for  expenses. 
Cabinet  Ministers  get  $12,000  a  year.  The  President, 
though  he  can  not  veto  a  bill  passed  by  the  two  Cham- 
bers, has  at  least  the  constitutional  right  of  asking  those 
bodies  to  reconsider.  Afterwards  he  has  no  alternative 
but  to  put  into  effect  whatever  is  decreed.  The  style 
of  life  at  the  Elysee  Palace  is  less  simple  than  at  the 
White  House.  The  office  of  the  French  President  is 
not  wholly  free  at  present  from  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance attaching  to  royalty.  In  reference  to  all  matters 
of  this  kind,  one  must  make  large  allowance  both  for 
the  traditions  of  the  nation  itself,  and  for  her  situation 
in  the  midst  of  powerful  monarchies.  The  wonder  is 
not  that,  with  a  Republican  form,  she  still  lacks  in  sim- 
plicity and  has  not  yet  reached  in  all  things  the  Repub- 


104  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

lican  ideal  of  Government,  but  that  she  is  a  Republic 
at  all. 

The  patronage  dispensed  by  the  President  of  France 
is  trifling  in  comparison  with  that  wielded  by  our  own 
Executive,  and  in  this  respect  the  French  have  a  de- 
cided advantage  over  us.  All  offices,  excepting  the 
highest,  are  non-political ;  and  Government  employees, 
after  thirty  years  of  service,  enjoy  a  pension.  Still  the 
President  of  the  French  Republic  has  a  far-reaching 
staff  to  look  after.  All  the  Prefects  of  Departments 
are  under  his  control;  and,  in  fact,  he  is  represented, 
directly  or  indirectly,  not  only  in  these  eighty-six  larger 
divisions  of  the  Republic,  but  in  the  362  arrondisse- 
ments,  in  the  2,871  cantons,  and  even  in  the  36,121 
communes. 

Which  reminds  us  of  another  thing  in  the  French 
Republic  differentiating  it  from  our  own — namely,  its 
tendency  to  centralization;  or,  in  other  words,  to  con- 
serve the  interests  of  the  general  Government  at  the 
expense  of  the  local  Government,  sometimes  even  to  the 
detriment  of  individual  liberty.  This,  however,  can 
hardly  be  called  in  truth  a  tendency  of  the  Republic. 
It  is  rather  a  legacy  from  the  Empire;  and  we  may 
hope,  therefore,  that  the  nation,  in  its  regenerated  form, 
will  finally  outgrow  it. 


THE  LEGISLATIVE  SYSTEM. 

THOSE  who  have  kept  but  a  casual  run  of  the  his- 
tory of  France  since  her  terrible  defeat  by  Ger- 
many, may  be  surprised  to  learn  that,  in  determining 
the  form  of  the  Constitution  by  which  she  is  now  gov- 
erned, a  controlling  influence  was  exercised  by  the  Mon- 
archists. With  their  numbers  so  greatly  reduced  as 
they  are  at  present,  it  seems  almost  incredible  that  in 
the  General  Assembly  which  was  elected  by  popular 
vote  to  provide  for  the  crisis  of  1871,  this  party  should 
have  had  a  majority.  Such  was  the  fact,  however;  and 
only  for  the  inability  of  those  supporting  the  different 
claimants  to  pool  their  issues,  the  events  of  the  last  two 
decades  might  have  turned  out  quite  differently.  As  it 
was,  the  Monarchists,  finding  it  impossible  to  agree 
amongst  themselves,  made  terms  temporarily  with  the 
Republicans.  Not  all,  of  course,  but  a  sufficient  num- 
ber at  any  rate  to  carry  through  the  Constitution  of 
1875;  and  one  of  the  conditions  of  this  memorable  fu- 
sion was  that  the  two  Chambers  should  be  retained. 
The  Republicans  were  committed,  both  by  tradition  and 
conviction,  to  the  one-chamber  principle;  but  upon  this 
point  the  Royalists  were  inexorable,  and  hence  the  legis. 

lative  power  was  vested  jointly  in  a  Senate  and  a  Cham- 

105 


106  IN  SUNNY  FKANCK. 

ber  of  Deputies;  and  one  can  only  suppose  that  this 
two-house  plan  is  still  retained,  now  that  the  Republi- 
cans are  so  largely  in  the  ascendant,  because  experience 
has  shown  that  what  was  accepted  at  first  simply  as 
an  expedient,  is  of  practical  utility,  not  to  say  necessity, 
in  carrying  on  the  Government. 

That  the  French  Chamber  of  Deputies  needs  some 
check  upon  it  there  can  be  no  reasonable  doubt.  To 
become  thoroughly  convinced  of  this,  one  has  only  to 
attend  a  few  of  its  sessions,  or,  for  that  matter,  follow 
for  a  time  the  accounts  one  may  get  of  them  in  the 
daily  papers.  A  body  which  finds  its  chief  amusement 
in  discrediting  Ministries,  and  which  treats  its  leaders 
much  as  a  child  is  wont  to  treat  its  playthings — setting 
them  up  merely  for  the  purpose,  as  it  would  seem,  of 
toppling  them  over  again — may  reflect  only  too  well 
some  of  the  traits  of  the  French  nation,  but  it  is 
scarcely  the  sort  of  tribunal  to  be  intrusted  with  ex- 
clusive power  over  the  destinies  of  that  nation. 

For  the  facility  with  which  he  loses  his  head,  the 
French  deputy  has  no  equal.  This  trait  may  be  a 
freakish  development  of  the  law  of  heredity,  due  to  the 
fact  that  in  times  gone  by  so  many  of  his  predecessors 
lost  their  heads  in  another  way.  But  there  he  is,  to 
whatever  causes  he  may  owe  the  eccentricities  which 
have  made  him  famous,  always  ready  with  an  "Inter- 
polation," and  always  prepared  to  follow  it  up,  if  needs 
be,  with  a  duel;  the  embodiment  of  suavity  at  one  mo- 


THE  LEGISLATIVE  SYSTEM.  107 

ment,  arid  the  next  an  incarnation  of  furious  hatred ; 
loading  the  Ministry  with  compliments  at  one  session, 
and  by  the  time  another  convenes  ready  to  kick  it  out 
of  doors. 

It  would  be  a  gross  exaggeration  to  imply  that  all 
the  deputies  are  of  this  type.  There  are  cool  heads 
even  in  France;  nor  can  it  be  doubted  that  in  the 
French  Chamber  of  Deputies  men  may  be  found  who, 
in  the  ability  to  look  calmly  at  both  sides  of  a  question 
and  to  act  like  reasonable  beings  under  the  fire  of  ridi- 
cule or  opposition,  would  do  credit  to  even  so  solemnly 
respectable  a  body  as  the  British  House  of  Commons. 
But  such  men  are  surely  not  in  the  majority  there,  nor 
are  they  the  men  who  give  the  Chamber  its  character. 
The  average  deputy,  and  the  one  most  in  view,  is  un- 
questionably of  the  type  we  have  sketched,  who  is  never 
happy  unless  he  is  out  of  sorts  with  somebody,  and  who 
always  has,  it  would  seem,  not  only  the  proverbial  chip 
on  his  shoulder,  but  a  couple  of  seconds  dangling  at  his 
heels.  The  sort  of  scenes  which  disgrace  Washington 
only  about  once  in  a  quadrennium,  and  Westminster  at 
still  longer  intervals,  are  of  such  frequent  occurrence  in 
the  legislative  halls  of  France  that  novelty-loving  Paris 
has  become  satiated  with  them.  We  have  known  a 
single  session  to  produce  three  fisticuff  encounters,  and 
to  lead  to  as  many  duels,  not  to  speak  of  the  number 
of  times  the  lie  was  exchanged;  and  though  such  a 
batch  of  "incidents,"  as  the  French  like  to  call  them, 


108  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

is  somewhat  in  excess  of  the  ordinary  output,  one  may 
safely  anticipate  that  if  there  is  anything  exciting  on 
hand — like  the  Panama  affair — scenes  and  incidents 
more  or  less  disgraceful  will  be  enacted  every  time  these 
French  legislators  come  together. 

The  Senate  is  a  more  self-contained  body,  as  one 
might  naturally  expect  it  to  be.  The  senator  must 
have  passed  his  fortieth  year,  while  the  age-limit  for  the 
deputy  begins  at  twenty-five;  and  perhaps  a  further 
guaranty  of  self-control  in  the  Upper  House  is  afforded 
by  the  manner  in  which  it  is  formed.  Deputies  are 
chosen  by  direct  vote  of  the  people.  The  electorate 
consists,  with  a  few  exceptions  who  are  disqualified  for 
various  reasons,  of  all  males  over  twenty-one  years  of 
age ;  and  at  a  recent  date  the  voting-lists  showed  a  total 
of  nearly  eleven  millions.  All  these  have  a  vote  in 
sending  men  to  the  Lower  House;  but  the  Senate,  like 
our  own,  is  elected  by  a  different  process. 

Each  department,  or  county,  is  represented  in  the 
Senate  by  from  one  to  ten  chosen  men ;  and  the  choice 
is  made  by  a  sort  of  County  Assembly,  composed  of  the 
deputies  for  the  county,  with  several  county  officers — 
like  commissioners  and  judges — and  of  delegates  specially 
elected  for  the  purpose  in  the  several  communes  or 
townships.  This  process,  it  is  needless  to  say,  produces 
a  class  of  men  somewhat  superior,  on  the  average,  to 
those  forming  the  Lower  House.  In  fact,  both  the  pro- 
cess and  its  results  are  similar  to  what  they  are  under 


THE  LEGISLATIVE  SYSTEM.  109 

our  own  system.  The  Senate,  however,  is  in  no  sense 
a  privileged  body;  nor  does  it  represent  the  classes  as 
against  the  masses.  It  is  really  the  creation  of  the 
people;  for  if  these  do  not  vote  for  it  directly,  they  do 
have  a  vote  in  constituting  the  County  Assemblies  out 
of  which  it  springs;  and  thus  the  entire  system  just  like 
our  own,  is  judiciously  balanced,  and  at  the  same  time 
thoroughly  representative. 

Against  the  300  senators,  the  Chamber  of  Deputies 
opposes  a  membership  of  584.  But  the  senators  have 
the  advantage  in  length  of  term ;  for  they  hold  their 
seats  for  nine  years,  while  the  deputies  are  elected  for 
only  four.  In  1875,  when  the  new  Constitution  went 
into  effect,  seventy  of  the  senators  were  elected  for  life. 
The  Chamber  of  Deputies  had  the  selection  of  these 
men  in  the  first  instance;  with  the  understanding,  how- 
ever, that  as  vacancies  occurred  they  would  be  filled  by 
the  Senate  itself.  But  this  arrangement  the  nation  has 
since  abrogated.  France  has  no  use  for  life  senators, 
and  we  are  glad  of  it.  She  still  has  a  few  of  these  left ; 
but  they  are  dying  off  steadily,  and  the  species  will  soon 
be  extinct.  A  third  of  the  Senate  is  subject  to  renewal 
at  the  end  of  every  three  years,  consequently  the  Senate 
is  never  an  entirely  new  body;  and  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  the  other  House  is  subject  to  a  complete  renewal, 
with  the  chance  of  sweeping  changes,  at  the  end  of 
every  quadrennium,  this  is  emphatically  a  wise  ar- 
rangement. 


110  IN  SUXXY  FRANCK. 

The  powers  enjoyed  by  the  two  Chambers  sire  equal 
in  ordinary  matters;  but  in  the  raising  of  supplies,  or 
the  changing  of  taxation  in  any  way,  the  initiative  rests 
very  properly  with  the  direct  representatives  of  the 
people.  By  custom,  too,  it  has  come  to  pass  that  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies  is  the  body  to  which  the  Cabinet 
defers.  An  adverse  vote  in  the  Senate  is  not  noticed, 
but  such  action  on  the  part  of  the  other  House  is  sure 
to  be  followed  by  Ministerial  resignations.  In  the  an- 
nual stipend  allowed  them,  senators  and  deputies  are  on 
the  same  footing.  Each  man  receives  from  the  State 
$1,800  a  year — a  sum  which  bears  no  comparison  with 
the  salary  paid  to  members  of  Congress  in  the  United 
States,  but  which  is  at  least  an  improvement  on  the 
English  system ;  for  there  nothing  is  paid.  Those  who 
like  to  dwell  upon  the  good  side  of  things  tell  us  that 
this  payment  of  nine  thousand  francs  a  year  brings 
a  seat  in  the  National  Councils  within  reach,  pecun- 
iarily speaking,  of  the  poorest  citizen ;  but  those  who  see 
the  bad  side  as  well  as  the  good,  think  the  pay  wretch- 
edly inadequate,  and  attribute  to  this  fact  the  suscepti- 
bility of  French  deputies  to  such  seductions  as  are  held 
out  to  them,  now  and  again,  by  the  promoters  of  ques- 
tionable financial  schemes. 

For  the  transaction  of  its  business  the  French  Con- 
gress divides  itself  up,  at  the  beginning  of  each  month, 
into  a  number  of  groups.  This  division  is  made  by  lot. 
In  the  Senate  there  are  nine  groups;  in  the  Chamber 


THE  LEGISLATIVE  SYSTEM.  Ill 

of  Deputies,  eleven.  Whatever  may  be  laid  upon  the 
table  is  first  considered  in  Committees  of  the  Whole  by 
these  various  groups,  each  group  then  appointing  a  cer- 
tain number,  who  meet  afterwards  with  representatives 
from  the  other  groups  to  consider  the  subject  as  a  Spe- 
cial Committee,  the  report  of  this  Special  Committee 
coming  finally  for  acceptance  or  rejection  before  the 
Chamber  itself.  To  be  valid,  every  measure  must  be 
carried  by  a  majority  of  all  the  members,  not  simply  by 
a  majority  of  those  present  and  voting.  In  taking  a 
vote,  the  usual  method,  if  the  subject  is  too  important 
to  be  disposed  of  by  a  show  of  hands,  is  to  cast  ballots. 
The  papers  used  are  white  and  blue — the  former  mean- 
ing for,  and  the  latter  against.  Each  ballot  is  indorsed 
with  the  name  of  the  deputy  or  senator  casting  it;  and 
when  the  question  to  be  decided  is  of  great  moment, 
the  ballots,  instead  of  being  gathered  up  by  tellers, 
are  deposited  with  imposing  formality  in  front  of  the 
Tribune. 

One  feature  of  the  French  legislative  system  strikes 
us  as  being  very  peculiar.  We  should  think,  however, 
that  it  would  be  decidedly  convenient;  and  we  wonder, 
now  we  come  to  think  of  it,  that  the  same  feature  has 
not  received  formal  recognition  in  such  countries  as 
England  and  the  United  States.  We  read  an  article 
recently  which  described,  in  blood-curdling  language, 
the  awful  nightmares  suffered  by  an  English  M.  P.  in 
consequence  of  the  promises  he  had  made  when  asking 


112  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

his  constituency  to  elect  him.  Doubtless  our  American 
statesmen  suffer  occasionally  from  the  same  cause ;  but 
in  France  they  manage  things  differently.  Members  of 
the  French  Chambers  formally  absolve  themselves  from 
such  promises.  Engagements  made  while  his  election 
impended  are  declared  to  be  null  and  void  when  the 
deputy  or  senator  takes  his  seat,  the  theory  being  that 
he  is  no  longer  accountable  to  his  constituency,  but  is 
solely  to  be  guided  by  his  conscience.  This  means  that 
he  may  not  only  go  back  on  his  promises  to  individuals, 
but  may  abrogate  with  equal  impunity  the  allegiance  he 
may  have  professed  towards  any  particular  principles — 
a  liberty,  by  the  way,  which  is  sometimes  abused,  and 
which,  unfortunately,  besides  affording  encouragement  to 
turncoats,  prevents  the  development  on  French  soil  of 
what  is  to-day  the  greatest  need  of  the  French  Republic ; 
namely,  a  strong,  well-disciplined  party  pledged  to  de- 
fend it  against  enemies  and  traitors. 

The  only  occasions  when  the  Senate  and  House  of 
Deputies  meet  in  joint-session  are  when,  in  the  magnifi- 
cent palace  at  Versailles,  they  take  the  Constitution 
under  review,  or  are  convoked  for  the  equally  grave 
purpose  of  electing  a  President.  For  its  regular  work 
the  Senate  meets  in  the  Palais  de  Luxembourg,  and 
the  Chamber  in  the  Palais  Bourbon.  Both  places  are 
eminently  historic,  and  the  events  in  which  they  have 
figured  suggest  in  a  striking  manner  the  checkered 
career  of  the  French  nation.  The  Palais  de  Luxem- 


THE  LEGISLATIVE  SYSTEM.  113 

bourg  was  built  for  Marie  cle  Medici,  but  received  ad- 
ditional touches  both  from  Napoleon  I  and  from  Louis 
Philippe.  Before  the  Revolution  it  \vas  occupied  by  the 
Count  of  Provence,  who  became  in  time  Louis  XVIII; 
and  in  the  days  of  the  Convention  it  was  a  State  prison. 
The  Palais  Bourbon  was  built  in  1722  for  the  dowager 
Duchess  of  Bourbon.  Afterwards  the  Prince  of  Conde 
lavished  upon  it  four  million  dollars;  and  in  1790  it 
was  declared  national  property,  being  used  at  first  for 
the  sittings  of  the  Council  of  Five  Hundred. 

Neither  of  these  palaces  has  the  look  of  picturesque 
dignity  for  which  the  Houses  of  Parliament  in  London 
are  famous;  and  the  Capitol  at  Washington  is  beyond  all 
comparison  with  them.  But  they  are  plentifully  adorned 
with  statuary  both  on  the  outside  and  within,  and,  like 
all  French  buildings  which  antedate  the  Revolutionary 
era,  they  are  intensely  interesting.  When  one  remem- 
bers, too,  that  the  Palais  Bourbon  has  twice  been  in- 
vaded by  a  mob,  it  seems  not  at  all  inappropriate  that 
it  should  be  the  meeting-place  of  that  excitable  and  very 

disorderly  body,  the  French  Chamber  of  Deputies. 

8 


XI. 

COURTS  OF  LAW  IN  FRANCE. 

r  I  ^HE  great  Bonaparte  impressed  himself  almost  as 
JL  much  upon  the  jurisprudence  of  France  as  upon 
the  annals  which  teem  with  her  military  exploits.  To 
be  strictly  exact,  we  must  credit  the  origin  of  the  Code 
Napoleon  to  those  stormy  Conventions  which  ruled 
France  during  the  Revolutionary  period.  But  it  was 
under  the  Consulate  and  the  first  Empire  that  this  work 
was  completed;  and,  inevitably,  the  Code,  which  bears 
the  name  of  this  remarkable  man,  received  from  his 
genius  its  final  impress  of  thoroughness  and  justice. 
This  Code  Napoleon  is  really  a  series  of  five  codes,  and 
with  only  slight  modifications — these  being  wholly  inad- 
equate, as  many  think,  to  meet  the  altered  conditions  of 
French  society — it  has  remained,  spite  of  all  changes  of 
Government,  as  the  supreme  guide  in  both  civil  and 
criminal  procedure  down  to  the  present  day. 

The  appointment  of  judges  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
President  of  the  Republic,  who,  of  course,  is  advised  in 
this  delicate  business  by  the  Ministry  of  Justice.  Prac- 
tically the  office  of  judge  is  one  which  terminates  only 
when  the  limit  of  age  has  been  reached,  the  incumbent 
retiring  then  upon  a  pension.  A  justice  of  the  peace, 

however,  may  be  removed  at  any  time  by  the  head  of 
114 


COURTS  OF  LAW  IN  FRANCE.  H>r> 

the  State.  The  President  can  depose  such  a  person  by 
a  word,  but  this  power  is  only  exercised  in  cases  of  ex- 
treme necessity;  and  as  regards  the  judges  of  higher 
rank,  the  President  can  exercise  the  power  of  removal 
in  their  cases  only  with  the  consent  of  the  Court  of 
Cassation.  This  court  answers  somewhat  to  our  own 
Supreme  Courts.  In  ordinary  law  cases  it  has  no  in- 
initiative,  its  province  being  merely  to  review,  for  ap- 
proval or  rejection,  the  contested  decisions  of  certain 
other  tribunals. 

Like  most  of  the  public  officials  of  France,  her 
judges  are  poorly  paid.  In  England  it  is  always  good 
pay  or  no  pay.  Justices  of  the  peace  in  that  nation 
serve  their  country  solely  for  the  honor  involved.  In 
France  the  ordinary  pay  of  such  persons  is  about  $360 
a  year.  To  skip  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest,  the 
English  chief-justice  pockets  a  stipend  fully  equal  to 
that  of  the  occupant  of  our  Presidential  chair;  whereas 
the  highest  judge  in  France,  the  first  president  of  the 
Court  of  Cassation,  has  to  support  his  dignity,  we  are 
assured,  on  a  yearly  salary  of  about  $6,000.  This  is 
certainly  making  justice  cheap  enough,  and  it  no  doubt 
inures  to  the  advantage  of  litigants  in  reduced  costs. 
But  it  also  has  the  effect  of  excluding  from  judicial 
office  all  who  have  not  a  private  income;  for  it  is  in- 
conceivable that  high  dignitaries  of  State  can  keep  up 
appearances  with  no  funds  to  draw  upon  save  the  meager 
salaries  instanced  above.  One  would  think,  too,  that 


116  IN  SUNNY  FRANCS. 

such  ill-paid  judges  would  be  in  danger  of  corruption; 
but  as  the  French  themselves  are  not  complaining  on 
this  score,  it  would  hardly  be  proper  for  a  foreigner  to 
do  so;  and  perhaps,  after  all,  the  French  people  are  as 
honorably  served  for  these  small  expenditures  as  some 
other  nations  are,  not  excepting  ourselves  even,  for  much 
larger  ones. 

Where  judges  cost  so  little,  you  may  naturally  look 
for  a  great  profusion  of  them,  and  so  it  is  in  France. 
Each  arrondisseraent  has  its  Court  of  First  Instance ; 
and  the  courts  of  appeal,  distributed  conveniently 
throughout  the  entire  country,  number  twenty-six. 
The  latter,  for  further  convenience,  are  subdivided  into 
as  many  different  chambers  as  the  particular  locality 
may  need,  and  each  of  these  chambers  has  a  judicial 
staff  of  half  a  dozen  or  so.  The  other  courts  have  also 
a  considerable  staff  of  judges,  a  full  bench  of  the  Court 
of  Cassation  consisting  of  forty-nine.  That,  too,  ex- 
clusive of  the  Outer  Court,  or  Parquet,  as  it  is  called. 
This  consists  of  the  procurator-general  and  several  advo- 
cates, who  hold  technically  the  position  of  assistant 
judges,  their  work  being  to  prepare  cases  for  trial,  and 
afterwards  to  pilot  them  through.  The  Parquet  is  a 
feature  of  all  French  courts.  It  answers,  in  a  measure, 
to  our  own  prosecuting  attorney's  office,  with  some  of 
the  functions  of  a  clerk  of  the  court  attached  to  it;  but 
it  has  here  a  decidedly  judicial  standing.  Not  only  do 
those  belonging  to  it  wear  the  judicial  cap  and  gown, 


COURTS  OF  LAW  IN  FRANCE.  117 

but  they  are  ranked  in  legal  parlance  as  a  part  of  the 
regular  magistracy. 

It  is  a  boast  of  the  French  judicial  system  that,  ex- 
cepting in  the  case  of  very  trivial  offenders,  it  allows 
every  man  a  chance  before  at  least  two  tribunals.  Tins 
is  well;  but  as  an  offset  to  this,  we  naturally  recall  one 
of  the  bad  features  of  this  system.  This  was  strikingly 
exhibited  in  the  earlier  stages  of  the  unfortunate  Panama 
scandal.  What  we  refer  to  is  the  power  possessed  by 
certain  French  judges  to  deprive  men  of  their  liberty, 
and  subject  them  to  rigid,  not  to  say  abusive,  examina- 
tions, while  it  is  still  uncertain  whether  there  is  a  good 
case  against  them.  Another  boast  of  the  French  is, 
that  every  case,  barring  only  those  with  which  justices 
of  the  peace  have  to  deal,  is  tried  with  more  than  one 
judge  on  the  bench.  In  the  highest  court,  the  Court  of 
Cassation,  there  must  never  be  less  than  eleven  judges 
present.  Five  is  the  lowest  number  in  a  Court  of  Ap- 
peal, and  for  a  Court  of  Assize  or  a  Court  of  First  In- 
stance, the  minimum  of  such  functionaries  is  three. 

The  truth  is  that  judges  seem  to  be  in  greater  favor 
in  France  than  juries.  Certainly  they  are  more  relied 
upon  by  those  responsible  for  the  French  code  of  pro- 
cedure, though  they  would  hardly,  we  should  think,  be 
held  preferable  by  those  cited  for  trial,  if  one  may  judge 
from  the  statistics  at  hand.  In  civil  cases  juries  are  en- 
tirely unknown,  and  it  is  only  in  one  of  the  courts,  the 
Court  of  Assizes,  that  such  uncertain  quantities  are  brought 


118  IN  SUNNY  FKANCH. 

into  play  even  iu  the  trial  of  criminals.  But  the  statis- 
tics— well,  they  are  decidedly  suggestive,  and  they  have  a 
marked  bearing  on  the  question,  often  raised  in  Amer- 
ica, as  to  whether  jurymen  are  a  help  or  a  hindrance  in 
the  administration  of  justice.  The  figures  we  quote 
have  reference  to  judicial  procedure  iu  France  during  a 
recent  four  years,  and  what  they  show  is,  that  while 
acquittals  before  Assize  Courts,  with  trial  by  jury,  were 
twenty-seven  per  cent,  and  while  of  those  found  guilty 
in  such  courts  seventy-four  per  cent  gained  a  verdict  of 
"extenuating  circumstances,"  in  the  other  courts,  where 
the  judges  are  the  jury,  there  were  only  six  per  cent  of 
acquittals,  and  but  sixty-two  per  cent  who  had  their 
punishment  tempered  because  of  mitigating  circum- 
stances. 

French  juries  are  extremely  sentimental.  If  our 
memory  is  not  at  fault,  it  was  a  jury  of  this  nationality 
who  acquitted  the  murderer  of  his  father  and  mother 
because  his  counsel  appealed  to  them  to  have  pity  upon 
a  poor  orphan.  At  any  rate,  that  the  twelve  "good 
men  and  true"  often  acquit  over  here  when  the  verdict 
by  right  should  be  one  of  guilty,  is  only  too  apparent 
to  even  the  indulgent  French  mind.  We  have  not 
heard  that  French  jurymen  have  the  itching  palms  at- 
tributed sometimes  to  juries  in  America,  but  they  surely 
have  tender  sensibilities,  and,  in  some  cases,  rather  soft 
heads.  Beauty  in  distress  hardly  ever  appeals  to  them 
in  vain ;  and  it  is  proverbial  that  in  a  class  of  cases 


COURTS  OF  LAW  IN  FRANCE.  119 

which  are  rather  common  here — as,  for  instance,  where, 
from  jealousy  or  some  other  strong  passion,  a  woman  has 
drawn  a  revolver  against  her  erstwhile  lover,  or  perhaps 
thrown  vitriol  over  him — the  twelve  good  Frenchmen 
in  the  jury-box  are  almost  sure  to  judge  leniently,  and 
as  likely  as  not,  if  the  woman  in  the  case  breaks  down, 
they  will  not  only  acquit,  but  will  do  so  with  choked 
voices  and  with  a  sympathetic  use  of  their  pocket-hand- 
kerchiefs. 

But  there  are  other  queer  doings  in  French  courts 
besides  those  in  which  sentimental  juries  figure.  It 
seems  strange,  for  instance,  to  find  the  presiding  judge 
acting  as  a  prosecutor.  Not  only  does  he  examine  and 
cross-examine  the  witnesses,  but  he  subjects  the  accused 
to  a  similar  process,  and  does  not  scruple  to  express  his 
opinion  of  the  latter,  and  even  strongly  to  condemn  him, 
while  he  is  still — the  verdict  not  having  been  given — 
presumably  innocent.  But  this  presumption  of  inno- 
cence does  not  seem  to  exist  in  France.  Charles  de 
Lesseps  is  told  by  the  judge  that  he  has  been  "mixed 
up  in  a  dirty  job,"  and  when  this  opinion  was  volun- 
teered, his  trial  had  scarcely  begun.  This  illustrates 
how  the  accused  are  treated;  and  another  incident  in 
the  same  trial  shows  how  judges  may  comment  adversely, 
if  they  choose,  upon  the  testimony  of  witnesses: 

The  President — "  Do  you  know  who  received  the  cash 
voucher  for  500,000  francs?" 

Witness— "  No." 


120  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

T/ie  President — "It  is  strange  that  you  should  not 
know.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  myself  should  have  been 
more  inquisitive  than  that."  [Laughter.] 

This,  though  it  was  funny,  was  hardly  without  bias; 
and  when,  at  the  same  sitting,  this  first  president  of  the 
Court  of  Appeal  interrupted  another  witness  with  the 
remark  that  if  the  Panama  Company  had  never  adopted 
the  plan  which  he  (the  witness)  had  suggested  to  them, 
"  it  would  have  been  a  blessing  to  unfortunate  subscribers, 
some  of  whom  were  likely  to  die  of  starvation,"  he  not 
only  did  that  which  indicated  a  prejudgment  of  the  case, 
but  went  so  far  adrift  from  judicial  calmness  as  even  to 
drag  feeling  into  the  case.  But  this  is  France,  we  must 
remember,  and  that  is  the  way  they  do  things  in  this 
country. 

The  French  judges,  however,  are  by  no  means  de- 
void of  dignity;  and,  excepting  in  great  trials,  when 
outside  excitement  seems  to  be  too  much  for  them,  they 
are  not  wanting  apparently  in  judicial  repose.  To  make 
the  rounds  of  the  different  courts  in  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice affords  you  a  view  of  as  fine  a  body  of  men  as  you 
could  expect  to  find  anywhere  in  France.  They  are 
hardly  so  solemn-looking  as  are  their  bewigged  brothers 
over  in  Britain,  but  they  appear  quite  too  virtuous  to 
wink  at  wrong;  and  altogether,  in  their  black  gowns 
and  white  lapels,  they  impress  the  visitor  much  as  a 
body  of  prim-looking  Church-of-England  clergymen 
would  be  likely  to  do.  They  are  seated  on  the  bench 


COURTS  OF  LAW  IN  FRANCE.      121 

in  a  semicircle,  the  president,  of  course,  in  the  middle; 
and  you  notice,  as  you  go  from  one  court  to  another, 
that  in  every  instance  the  president  has  before  him,  in 
a  niche  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  room,  a  bust  of  the 
figure  of  Liberty,  and  behind  him  a  painting  of  the 
Crucifixion  scene.  Otherwise  the  court-rooms  are  much 
as  you  find  them  in  other  countries — plenty  of  barristers 
waiting  for  briefs,  and  the  usual  number  of  morbid  out- 
siders, some  of  them  so  deeply  absorbed  in  the  proceed- 
ings that  they  are  taking  a  nap. 

One  feature  of  the  French  judicial  system  deserves 
unstinted  praise,  and  that  is  the  thoughtful  regard  it 
shows  for  those  in  limited  circumstances,  and  its  really 
noble  efforts  to  bring  legal  redress  within  easy  reach  of 
the  humblest  citizen.  In  regard  to  trivial  matters,  it  is 
as  much  the  duty  of  the  justice  of  the  peace  in  a  rural 
town  to  settle  differences,  if  he  can,  without  allowing 
the  contestants  to  come  formally  before  the  court,  as  it 
is  his  duty  honorably  to  try  such  cases  if  his  friendly 
offices  are  unavailing.  In  higher  courts,  the  poor  who 
find  themselves  obliged  to  invoke  the  law,  are  absolved, 
if  they  wish  to  be,  both  from  counsel's  fees  and  from 
court  and  stamp  duties.  Nor  is  this  all,  but  almost 
everywhere  throughout  France  there  are  special  courts, 
made  up  of  trade  experts  and  of  leading  business  men, 
for  the  settlement,  without  delay  and  with  scarcely  any 
cost,  of  disputes  between  employers  and  workmen,  and 
of  the  disagreements  occurring  between  rival  commercial 


122  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

houses.  These  courts  are  a  great  boou,  and  their  exist- 
ence is  another  proof,  added  to  mauy  of  similar  import, 
that  the  France  of  these  later  decades,  far  from  being  a 
rich  man's  country,  is  one  rather  in  which  the  work- 
man holds  sway,  and  whose  affairs  are  regulated  with 
special  reference  to  the  well-being  of  the  masses. 


XII. 
THE  FRENCH  PRESS. 

AMONG  the  many  institutions  more  or  less  discred- 
ited by  the  great  Panama  scandal,  there  is  not  one 
which  appears  in  a  worse  light  than  the  French  press. 
This  medium  of  popular  enlightenment — the  guide  and 
guard  of  the  people,  as  it  ought  to  be — is  shown  to  have 
been  subsidized  in  the  interests  of  a  mammoth  fraud, 
by  which  money  has  been  sucked  in  millions  out  of  the 
pockets  of  rich  and  poor  alike.  Not  only  this,  but  it  is 
convicted  morally  of  levying  blackmail  upon  the  pro- 
moters of  this  fraud.  It  did  more  than  simply  receive 
that  which  was  offered  to  it.  It  was  not  passively  bribed 
to  puff  this  enterprise.  It  was  an  aggressive  claimant 
for  bribes.  It  seems  really  to  have  been  a  leader  in 
that  band  of  social  brigands  who,  as  Charles  de  Lesseps 
so  graphically  put  it,  went  at  the  directors  with  drawn 
poniards,  and,  in  true  highway  style,  demanded  their 
money  or  their  lives.  Happily,  this  does  not  apply  to 
all  the  Parisian  newspapers.  There  were  honorable  ex- 
ceptions. Not  enough,  however,  to  redeem  the  craft 
from  disgrace,  or  to  turn  the  sharp  edge  of  censure 
from  the  French  press  considered  as  an  institution. 

To  American  thought  these  revelations  are  all  the 

more  astounding  because,  as  it  appears  at  present,  no 

123 


124  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

steps  are  to  be  taken  to  punish  them.  The  papers  in- 
volved pursue  their  career  as  though  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. Editors  and  publishers,  far  from  feeling  them- 
selves disgraced,  seem  rather  to  be  taking  pride  in  the 
excellent  management  they  displayed.  We  have  not 
discovered  either  that  there  is  any  marked  indignation 
toward  them  on  the  part  of  their  deluded  constituency, 
the  great  French  public.  Popular  sentiment  may  change 
after  a  time,  but  at  present  it  seems  to  look  upon  this 
latest  expose  of  the  venality  of  the  press  with  remark- 
able leniency— almost,  in  fact,  with  indifference.  Nor 
is  it  difficult  to  account  for  this.  Judged  by  its  own 
recognized  standards,  the  French  press  has  only  acted 
in  this  instance  as  it  usually  acts,  and  has  done  nothing 
but  what  is  strictly  proper.  Speaking  generally,  its 
columns  are  always  for  sale.  Between  advertisements 
and  editorial  puffs  the  line  of  demarkation  is  very  dim, 
and  in  many  papers  it  vanishes  completely  out  of  sight. 
It  could  hardly  be  said,  perhaps,  that  it  is  customary 
for  French  newspapers  to  sell  their  influence  to  schemes 
of  fraud ;  but  they  constantly  sell  it  for  ordinary 
business  purposes,  and  many  of  them  are  bought  up 
regularly  by  agents  of  the  Government.  This  is  no 
secret;  and  we  have  not  heard  that  either  the  Govern- 
ment, the  newspapers,  or  anybody  else  concerned,  has 
any  feeling  of  shame  on  the  subject.  As  regards  the 
papers,  they  openly  advertise  that  they  will  publish 
what  is  sent  to  them,  and  the  rates  are  given.  The 


THE  FRENCH  PRESS.  125 

tariff'  in  ordinary  cases  is  from  three  dollars  to  eight 
dollars  a  line,  and  it  is  understood,  of  course,  that  what 
is  put  in  at  these  rates  will  appear  as  ordinary  reading- 
matter,  with  the  tacit  indorsement  of  the  journal  which 
publishes  it.  Even  society  and  the  great  world  of  art 
are  subsidized  in  this  fashion.  You  may  be  quite  sure 
that  every  notice  you  read  of  a  wedding  party,  a  society 
ball,  or  a  theatrical  performance,  has  been  paid  for  at  a 
steep  rate;  and  as  to  the  many  disguised  mercantile 
"ads,"  which  the  papers  palm  off  upon  the  reading 
public,  everybody  understands — at  least,  every  well-in- 
formed person  in  France  does — that,  as  a  rule,  they 
will  be  indifferent,  effusive,  or  superlative  in  their  terms 
accordingly  as  the  client  may  have  approximated  to  these 
degrees  in  the  necessary  check  furnished  for  pre-payment. 
Here  is  a  good  introduction,  though  not  a  very  flat- 
tering one,  to  a  few  notes  upon  the  French  press  in 
general.  By  this  we  mean  emphatically  the  Parisian 
press;  for  whether  Paris  is  France  in  any  other  sense 
or  not,  it  certainly  is  in  this.  Outside  of  this  city  there 
are  scarcely  any  papers  worth  naming;  and,  what  is 
more  to  the  point,  we  should  find  few  in  Paris  itself 
worth  naming  if  we  judged  them  by  American  ideals. 
The  ordinary  size  is  four  pages,  the  paper  used  being 
wretchedly  poor,  and  the  appearance  and  make-up 
hardly  equal  to  that  of  our  average  Shantytown  Gazette. 
Parisian  newspapers  have  been  divided  into  two  classes — 
the  grave  and  the  gay;  with  the  Temps  as  the  repre- 


126  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

sentative  of  the  former,  and  Figaro  as  the  best  type  of 
the  latter.  Needless  to  say  that,  in  the  gay  capital  of 
France,  newspapers  of  a  decidedly  frivolous  bent  are 
largely  in  the  ascendant;  and  it  may  be  taken  equally 
as  a  matter  of  course  that  the  sort  of  gayety  which  is 
most  predominant  has  a  decidedly  personal  flavor,  with 
not  a  little  admixture  of  scandal  in  it. 

As  to  the  serious  journals,  those  which  make  a  pre- 
tense of  being  real  newspapers  and  of  keeping  their 
readers  in  touch  with  current  events,  one  can  only  say, 
judging  again  from  the  American  standpoint,  that  the 
Paris  newspapers  who  aim  at  this  object  fall  woefully 
wide  of  the  mark.  Enterprise  and  freshness  are  two 
words  of  which  they  seem  quite  ignorant.  For  foreign 
and  provincial  items  they  depend  almost  entirely  upon 
news  agencies.  In  fact,  only  a  few  are  subscribers  even 
to  these.  The  great  mass  get  what  little  outside  news 
they  deign  to  publish  by  clippings  which  are  often  ven- 
erable with  age.  Not  one  of  them  has  a  correspondent 
in  the  United  States;  and  when  the  reader  only  thinks 
that  representatives  of  the  American  press  are  to  be 
found  in  every  country  under  the  sun,  and  that  the  col- 
umns of  American  papers  teem  with  European  corre- 
spondence— much  of  it  from  France — he  will  have  be- 
fore him  the  data  for  a  fair  comparison  between  American 
newspaper  enterprise  and  that  poor  apology  for  the  real 
thing  which  goes  by  this  name  in  the  largest  city  of  the 
European  Continent. 


THE  FRENCH  PRESS.  127 

We  had  thought  the  English  papers  slow  enough, 
and  everybody  knows  they  are  heavy  enough,  with 
their  ponderous  leading  articles,  their  solemn  regard 
for  unimportant  details,  and  their  page  after  page  of 
closely-set  advertising  matter.  The  English  papers, 
however,  do,  at  least,  give  you  the  news  of  the  day. 
In  fact,  they  give  you  a  fair  resume,  excepting  from  our 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  of  the  news  of  the  world.  But 
the  Parisian  press  does  not  give  anything  like  a  fair 
summary  of  the  news  of  France — not  even  of  Paris. 
It  is  against  its  policy  to  do  so.  With  these  French 
papers  news  is  a  mere  incident.  The  great  thing  is  to 
make  a  sensation ;  and  the  next,  to  afford  examples  of 
fine  writing;  while  another  very  obvious  purpose  is  to 
enable  scribblers  to  write  themselves  into  notoriety, 
which  they  can  do  more  easily  in  France  than  either  in 
England  or  America,  because,  as  a  rule,  all  articles  there 
are  signed. 

Perhaps,  though,  we  ought  to  revise  this  classifica- 
tion, and  say  that  French  papers  are  run  chiefly  to 
make  money,  and  to  do  this  by  whatever  means  may 
promise  the  surest  and  quickest  returns.  Speaking  of 
advertisements  in  English  papers,  it  is  anything  but 
pleasant  to  take  up  the  London  Telegraph,  and  find  its 
eight  pages — as  we  have  done  many  times — divided  off 
into  five  for  advertising  matter  and  three  only  for  what 
a  fellow  wants  to  read.  It  is  also  exasperating  to  find 
long-winded  editorials  where  you  would  like  to  see 


128  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

bright  allusion  to  passing  events.  But  in  England  you 
are  never  puzzled  to  know  where  the  advertisements 
break  off  and  the  editorial  opinions  begin ;  whereas  in 
France  this  is  a  form  of  perplexity  which,  like  the  poor, 
is  with  you  always. 

But  the  blame  for  their  apparent  shortcomings  must 
not  be  charged  exclusively  upon  the  newspapers  them- 
selves. What  we  find  in  the  press  of  France  is  only 
another  instance  of  "like  priest,  like  people."  The 
Parisian  public  knows  what  it  wants,  and  so  evidently 
do  Parisian  editors.  Some  one  has  said  that  to  the 
people  of  Paris  an  accident  to  a  dog  on  the  boulevards 
is  more  interesting  than  a  European  catastrophe.  So  it 
is  in  one  sense;  and  they  insist  that  their  press  shall  tell 
them  of  such  small  happenings  as  these,  not  caring  ap- 
parently for  much  beside.  That  the  people  of  a  city  so 
large  and  so  cosmopolitan  should  be  so  very  narrow  in 
their  views  and  sympathies  is  one  of  the  things  that  has 
astonished  us.  To  the  Parisian  mind,  not  only  is  Paris 
France,  but  France,  it  would  seem,  is  nearly  all  there  is 
of  the  world;  and  it  is  of  France,  therefore,  which  is 
only  another  name  for  Paris,  that  they  want  to  hear  in 
the  columns  of  their  daily  press. 

And  what  they  read  must  have  the  genuine  Parisian 
flavor  about  it.  That  is,  it  must  be  very  highly  col- 
ored; must  deal  largely  with  intrigue;  must  mirror,  in 
a  light  fashion,  the  gossip  and  movements  of  society; 
and  must  be  interesting  and  piquant,  even  if  facts  have 


THE  FRENCH  PRESS.  129 

to  be  perverted  to  make  it  so.  For  what  Parisians  de- 
sire to  have  served  up  to  them  is  not  facts,  primarily, 
but  articles  which,  with  just  enough  basis  to  give  an  air 
of  probability  to  what  is  said,  shall  gratify  a  prurient 
taste,  and  appeal  strongly  to  the  imagination.  And  one 
can  not  help  observing,  apropos  of  this,  that  if  the 
naked  truth  were  more  common  in  Parisian  papers,  and 
the  nude  figure  less  so  in  its  art  galleries  and  print- 
shops,  this  big  city  would  have  more  to  boast  of  than 
she  has  at  present — certainly  so  on  the  score  of  morals. 

Which  reminds  us,  however,  that  salacious  court 
proceedings  are  not  nearly  so  much  a  feature  in  French 
newspapers  as  they  are  in  English.  This,  because  the 
law  interposes  in  France  to  prevent  such  degrading 
publications.  The  testimony  in  divorce  suits  is  never 
published.  Editors  and  readers  alike  have  to  content 
themselves  with  the  findings  in  such  cases.  In  Eng- 
land, on  the  contrary,  you  get  such  slush  by  the  wagon- 
full;  the  newspapers  there,  even  the  best  of  them,  go- 
ing to  such  lengths,  when  the  law  on  the  publication 
of  evidence  allows  them,  that  they  are  called  to  order 
sometimes  by  even  the  salacious  press  of  this  city  on  the 
Seine. 

Doubtless,  though,  it  is  a  case  of  sour  grapes  with 
these  Paris  editors.  It  certainly  must  be;  for  the 
brightest  reporters  in  Paris  are  constantly  on  the  alert 
for  just  such  "copy,"  barring  names  and  dates;  and  it 
is  not  too  much  to  say  that  matter  appertaining  to  do- 


130  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

mestic  discord  and  illicit  affection — or  at  any  rate  hav- 
ing a  decided  trend  toward  such  things — forms  the 
staple  of  Parisian  newspaper  reading,  whether  you  judge 
of  it  by  the  serials  offered  for  perusal,  or  by  the  col- 
umns devoted  to  real  or  fanciful  happenings  in  daily  life. 

The  newspapers  of  Paris  are  in  quantity  altogether  out 
of  proportion  to  their  quality.  Their  name  is  legion,  and 
when  one  thinks  how  venomous  many  of  them  are,  how 
spiteful  in  their  attacks  on  character,  and  how  destitute 
of  high  moral  tone,  it  is  impossible  not  to  think  of  those 
malign  agencies  by  whom,  as  a  certain  Good  Book  tells 
us,  that  name  was  first  appropriated.  But  if  a  devilish 
Philistinism  can  ever  be  excused,  Parisian  newspaper 
men  may  surely  plead  a  partial  palliation  in  the  fact 
that  they  hold  themselves  personally  responsible  for 
what  they  write.  The  trouble  about  duels,  however,  is 
that  they  kill  off  so  few.  We  used  to  think  dueling  a 
horrible  practice.  Since  studying  it  in  France  we  are 
convinced  that  it  is  harmless — quite  so  to  the  partici- 
pants, and  to  the  general  public  a  decided  source  of 
amusement.  The  only  pity  is  that  too  often  editors  are 
treated  to  the  safe  diversion  of  a  personal  encounter 
when  they  would  be  more  properly  treated  if  they  were 
hurled  behind  prison-bars  or  subjected  to  a  heavy  fine. 

It  is  probable  that  most  of  the  excesses  of  French 
journalism  are  due  to  its  newly-found  freedom.  It  was 
only  emancipated  about  ten  years  ago,  and,  like  the 
nation  itself,  it  has  come  into  the  possession  of  liberty 


THE  FRENCH  PRESS.  131 

without  knowing  exactly  how  to  use  it.  On  this  prin- 
ciple we  may  hope  for  improvement  as  time  passes; 
and,  of  course,  there  are  some  papers  even  now  which 
are  as  ably  and  as  honorably  conducted — with  allowance 
for  different  national  standards — as  any  *of  our  own. 
With  other  improvements,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the 
poor  reporter  will  be  better  remunerated.  At  present 
he  works  mostly  on  approval — that  is,  he  gets  so  much 
a  line  if  his  copy  is  accepted.  A  newspaper  reporter  in 
Paris  who  gets  $75  a  month  by  legitimate  means  is  well- 
off.  To  do  this  he  must  have  several  papers  on  his 
list,  and,  as  things  go  now,  must  turn  out  a  very  spicy 
article  of  work. 


XIII. 
THE  FRENCH  PEASANTRY. 

of  our  notions  about  rural  France  will  have 
O  to  be  revised.  It  has  been  popularly  supposed  that 
the  extensive  subdivision  of  agricultural  laud  in  this 
country  was  due,  primarily,  to  the  Revolution  of  a  hun- 
dred years  ago.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  pop- 
ular uprising  of  that  period,  with  its  political  and  ma- 
terial changes,  was  somewhat  of  a  help  toward  this 
end;  but  that  it  could  not  have  been  the  chief  factor 
is  shown  conclusively  by  the  single  circumstance  that, 
when  the  Revolution  broke  out,  it  found,  amongst  the 
twenty-five  millions  of  the  population  at  that  period, 
about  half  as  many  small  landowners  as  there  are  esti- 
mated to  be  at  present  in  a  population  of  thirty-eight 
millions.  As  a  matter  of  fact  peasant  proprietorship, 
as  it  exists  in  France,  is  a  legacy  from  the  far-distant 
past.  It  existed  and  was  recognized  side  by  side  with 
feudalism,  and  it  has  reached  its  present  unparalleled 
dimensions  because,  since  feudalism  was  abolished,  the 
political  and  material  conditions  of  France  have  become 
gradually  more  and  more  favorable  to  it. 

Another  notion  needing  to  be  modified  is  that  which 
conceives  of  small  proprietors  as  holding  a  larger  area 

of  the  agricultural  land  of  France  than  is  held  by  pro- 
132 


THE  FRENCH  PEASANTRY.  133 

prietors  of  more  importance.  It  is  easy  to  be  misled  in 
this  matter.  There  are  portions  of  France,  and  the 
fairest  and  richest  portions,  of  which  such  a  conception 
would  be  unquestionably  true;  and  the  notion  receives 
additional  favor  from  those  general  statements  which 
are  afloat,  like  that,  for  instance,  which  puts  the  aggre- 
gate of  landowners  at  eight  millions,  and  another  which 
states  that  one-half  of  the  agricultural  surface  is  tilled 
by  the  families  to  whom  it  belongs.  When,  however, 
we  dive  into  figures  a  little,  what  we  discover  is  that 
holdings  of  less  than  fifteen  acres  amount  to  only  about 
a  fourth  of  the  country's  surface,  while  those  exceeding 
one  hundred  and  twenty  acres  cover  more  than  a  third 
of  it.  We  also  find  that  holdings  which  range  between 
these  figures  exceed  considerably  in  the  acreage  they 
cover  both  the  smaller  and  the  larger  estates ;  making  it 
obviously  true,  as  French  statisticians  have  repeatedly 
maintained,  that  France,  as  regards  the  division  of  its 
land,  may  more  properly  be  classed  as  a  country  of 
medium  holdings  than  as  a  nation  which  is  either  dom- 
inated by  big  landlords,  or  cut  up  into  piecemeal  for  the 
sole  benefit  of  little  ones. 

Two  other  notions  challenge  attention,  both  of  which 
will  have  to  be  changed  somewhat  if  they  are  to  har- 
monize strictly  with  the  facts.  One  is  the  popular  idea 
that  under  a  system  of  small  and  medium  holdings  the 
land  will  be  cultivated  better,  and  hence  be  more  fruit- 
ful, than  under  a  different  system — such  a  system,  for 


134  IN  SUNNY  FRANCH. 

instance,  as  that  obtaining  in  England.  In  a  new 
country  like  our  own,  where  the  soil  has  only  to  be 
tickled  with  the  plow  to  smile  annually  with  a  bountiful 
harvest,  such  a  result  from  small  proprietorship  might 
be  naturally  counted  upon;  but  where  the  soil  is  old, 
and  so  nearly  exhausted  as  to  need  artificial  stimulus — 
and  therefore  capital  and  skill — to  bring  it  into  a  state 
of  even  moderate  fruitfuluess,  it  is  very  easy  to  see, 
upon  reflection,  that  the  small,  semi-impoverished  owner, 
who  must  rely  solely  upon  his  owrn  limited  resources,  is 
at  a  disadvantage.  Not  only  is  this  what  might  reason- 
ably be  expected,  but  the  figures  show  that  it  is  the 
actual  result;  that,  too,  whether  small  holdings  in 
France  are  compared  in  their  productiveness  with  larger 
holdings  of  the  same  sort  of  laud  in  the  same  country,  ^ 
or  whether  agricultural  France  is  lumped  together  and 
compared  in  this  matter  with  nations  which  pursue  their 
farming  under  a  different  system. 

So,  likewise,  must  our  notions  as  to  the  degree  of 
material  prosperity  accruing  to  small  proprietors  be 
modified  somewhat.  Settled  upon  a  few  acres,  a  small 
family  may  manage  to  live ;  but  if  they  depend  solely 
upon  what  their  little  patch  of  land  affords  them,  they 
will  live  a  hard  life,  with  scarcely  any  comfort,  and  in 
mean  and  squalid  surroundings.  This  is  the  condition 
of  a  large  part  of  the  French  peasantry  at  the  present 
day.  It  is  quite  true  that  most  of  them  lay  by  a  little 
for  the  future ;  but  they  do  this  by  a  sort  of  instinct, 


THE  FRENCH  PEASANTRY.  135 

and  the  reason  they  are  able  to  do  it  is  that,  rather 
than  leave  the  future  in  uncertainty,  they  will  steal  a 
little  from  present  necessaries.  Allowing  for  exceptions, 
we  have  not  found  that,  as  regards  the  supply  of  their 
material  wants,  the  French  peasantry,  as  a  whole,  are 
much,  if  any,  better  off  than  the  farm-laborers  of  Great 
Britain.  Their  food  is  coarse  in  the  extreme,  and  they 
are  often  very  meanly  domiciled. 

The  cleanliness  and  brightness  one  sees  so  generally 
in  laborers'  cottages  in  England  are  rare  indeed  in 
France.  M.  Blouet,  who  is  surely  a  good  authority, 
tells  us  that  the  average  French  peasant  will  live  on 
eight  or  ten  cents  a  day;  and  another  writer — M. 
Betham-Edwards — who  has  traversed  the  entire  country, 
says  that  thousands  of  French  peasants  must  have  seen 
for  the  first  time,  at  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1889,  those 
conveniences  of  modern  life  which,  in  all  well-regulated 
families,  are  held  essential  to  both  health  and  decency. 

Perhaps  we  are  laying  too  much  stress  upon  these 
things.  For  fear  of  being  misunderstood,  we  hasten  to 
say  that  rural  life  in  France  has  undergone  vast  im- 
provements within  twenty  years,  and  that  the  trend  is 
now  more  decidedly  onward  and  upward  than  ever  be- 
fore. You  can  still  find  sections  where  the  rude  bed 
adorns  an  alcove  in  the  kitchen ;  and  where,  as  in  the 
earliest  times,  horses  are  used  to  tread  out  the  corn ;  as 
also  many  parts,  where  illiteracy  is  common,  and  where 
the  people  live  in  the  coarsest  manner,  and  do  their 


136  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

work  without  the  least  regard  for  modern  improvements. 
But  iu  these  days  education  is  penetrating  into  the  most 
remote  hamlets,  and  Jacques  Bonhomme,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  this  and  other  civilizing  forces,  is  beginning 
to  think  that  there  is  more  in  this  life,  even  for  him, 
than  to  grub  and  save  and  then  die,  leaving  similar 
conditions  to  his  offspring.  Moreover,  farm  wages  are 
improving.  For  the  lowest  form  of  farm  drudgery  they 
have  quadrupled  within  fifty  years,  the  ruling  rate  now 
being  from  $80  to  $120  a  year,  with  board;  the  latter 
sum,  which  is  very  high  for  France,  being  the  wage 
commanded  by  those  "aristocrats  of  the  farm,"  the 
shepherds.  After  all,  too,  there  is  hardly  any  pauper- 
ism in  agricultural  France,  though  there  is  poverty  and 
plenty  of  hard  scratching.  And  when  you  consider  that 
Honest  Hodge,  if  he  lives  to  be  very  old,  is  very  likely 
to  end  his  days  in  the  poor-house,  while  Jacques  Bon- 
homme is  almost  certain  to  breathe  his  life  away  under 
his  own  roof-tree,  with  his  own  kindred  about  him, — it 
would  seem  as  though  any  substantial  comparison  be- 
tween the  peasantry  of  France  and  the  farm-laborers  of 
England  were  quite  out  of  the  question. 

That  the  French  peasants  themselves  are  measurably 
content  with  their  lot  is  shown  in  numerous  ways. 
One  proof  of  it  is  afforded  in  the  complacency  with 
which  they  look  upon  governmental  affairs.  It  is  not 
in  clustering  hamlets  that  French  revolutionists  are 
bred,  but  in  the  close,  fervid  atmosphere  of  great  cities. 


THE  FRENCH  PEASANTRY.  137 

Far  from  being  a  revolutionist,  the  French  peasant  is 
not  even  a  politician.  It  used  to  amaze  us  that  the 
popular  vote,  drawn-  so  largely  from  this  class,  could 
change  so  soon  from  its  emphatic  indorsement  of  Na- 
poleon III  to  its  equally  emphatic  countenance  of  exist- 
ing republican  forms.  On  the  face  of  it  this  would 
suggest  vacillation  and  rural  unrest;  but,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  indicates  the  opposite  of  all  this.  It  shows, 
when  one  gets  an  inside  view,  that  French  peasants  take 
little  interest  in  such  things,  that  they  are  wholly 
wrapped  up  in  the  humdrum  life  of  the  vineyard  and 
the  farm,  and  so  absorbed  in  making  a  living  and  lay- 
ing by  a  little  for  old  age,  that  elections  mean  to  them 
little  more  than  acquiescence  in  whatever  form  of  gov- 
ernment may  happen  for  the  time  to  be  in  power.  Any- 
thing seems  to  suit  them  politically  so  long  as  it  allows 
them  to  go  on  quietly  with  their  ordinary  pursuits. 
When  Napoleon  asks  for  their  support,  they  think  of 
nothing  beyond  saying,  "Yes;"  and  when  Paris  and 
other  centers,  having  overthrown  the  Empire,  ask  them 
to  indorse  a  Republic,  the  response  naturally  is  the 
same.  This,  at  least,  is  how  it  has  been  in  the  past, 
though  one  can  not  help  thinking  that  twenty  years  of 
prosperous  republican  rule  must  have  awakened  in 
many  of  these  rustic  Frenchmen  a  pronounced  liking 
for  this  simpler  form  of  government,  and  that  the  in- 
creased enlightenment  these  years  have  brought  will 
lead  them  hereafter  to  increased  political  activity. 


138  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

In  France,  as  in  other  nations,  the  complaint  is  com- 
mon that  the  rural  districts  are  undergoing  a  slow  pro- 
cess of  depopulation.  In  two  respects,  however,  France 
differs  in  this  matter  from  both  Germany  and  England. 
We  have  not  heard  that  in  either  of  these  countries 
there  is  any  scarcity  of  births  amongst  the  rural  popula- 
tion— rather  the  contrary;  whereas  in  France  the  birth- 
rate is  as  low  in  many  of  the  rural  districts  as  in  any 
of  the  centers  of  urban  life,  and  the  average  of  chil- 
dren per  family  no  higher  in  some  parts  than  in  the 
exceptional  town  of  Roubaix,  where  the  last  census 
puts  it  at  one.  Not  only  so,  but  we  are  assured  by  a 
writer  in  the  Nation  that,  in  many  cases,  "the  ascer- 
tained cause  of  this  is  the  desire  of  parents  to  better 
their  own  condition" — in  other  words,  French  thrift. 
Another  point  to  be  noted  is  that  while  the  country 
districts  of  England  and  Germany,  especially  the  latter, 
are  being  largely  drawn  upon  by  foreign  emigration, 
France  is  suffering  from  this  cause  scarcely  at  all.  A 
fact,  by  the  way,  which  speaks  suggestively  of  the  supe- 
rior contentment  of  the  French. 

The  great  drain  in  France  is  not  from  that  country 
to  some  other,  but  from  the  rural  districts  toward  the 
great  cities,  especially  toward  Paris.  With  increasing 
education  there  has  sprung  up  in  the  rural  breast  a 
feverish  desire  for  enlarged  opportunities.  It  is  dis- 
covered, too,  that  cities  offer  an  increased  wage;  and, 
without  thinking  how  much  that  is  beyond  price  they 


THE  FRENCH  PEASANTRY.  139 

must  give  up  in  the  exchange  of  farm  life  for  factory 
life,  great  numbers  of  the  younger  peasantry,  infatuated 
with  this  prospect  of  higher  pay,  ai'e  gravitating  yearly 
to  the  actual,  and,  too  often,  the  sad  realization  of  what 
it  means.  Unfortunately,  too,  the  universal  conscrip- 
tion for  military  service  has  a  depleting  effect  upon 
country  life — that,  too,  not  only  in  the  fact  that  it  takes 
young  men  off  for  three  years  just  at  the  time  they 
would  naturally  be  settling  down  to  family  life,  but  in 
the  further  fact  that  it  weans  them  from  country  at- 
tachments, and  makes  them  at  home  afterwards  only  in 
such  scenes  of  bustle  and  pleasure  as  the  big  city  offers. 
This  is  the  complaint  in  France ;  and  the  facts  to  which 
it  has  reference  are  decidedly  suggestive,  showing,  as 
they  do,  that  in  our  present-day  civilization  city  life  is 
more  than  a  match  for  country  life  in  its  power  to  daz- 
zle and  draw,  even  when  farm  life  can  offer  as  a  special 
attraction  the  possible  ownership  of  a  small  strip  of  land. 
But  as  to  the  latter  point,  there  are  many  peasants 
who  are  not  land-owners.  To  say  that  one-half  of  the 
soil  is  cultivated  by  those  who  are  proprietors  of  it  is 
to  say  much,  but  not  all;  for  the  other  half  has  yet  to 
be  accounted  for.  This,  we  find,  is  occupied  by  two 
classes — three-fourths  of  it  by  those  paying  a  regular 
rental,  and  the  remaining  one-fourth  by  what  are  called 
metayers;  that  is,  those  who,  for  the  privilege  of  farm- 
ing it,  halve  the  products  they  realize  with  its  owners. 
To  indicate  still  further  how  farming  operations  are 


140  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

carried  on,  it  should  be  rioted  that  in  some  cases  a 
number  of  metayers  take  a  holding  together,  bringing 
their  combined  capital  to  bear  in  the  effort  to  make  it 
profitable.  It  should  also  be  noted  that  in  districts 
where  the  holdings  of  land  are  generally  small  it  is  not 
unusual  for  neighbors  to  own  a  horse  and  a  cow  in 
jointure;  and  that  associations  are  common  in  such  dis- 
tricts for  the  purchase  and  hiring  out  of  improved  agri- 
cultural machinery,  and  for  the  granting,  on  rare  occa- 
sions, of  such  small  loans  as  may  be  needed  while  the 
impecunious  peasant  waits  for  his  crops  to  ripen. 

In  social  life  the  French  peasantry  are  pre-eminent 
for  the  sobriety  they  exhibit — that,  too,  spite  of  the  fact 
that,  in  some  parts,  their  staple  beverage  is  home-made 
wine.  In  morals  they  are  far  superior,  as  a  rule,  to  city 
folk;  so  much  so  that  an  intelligent  and  sympathetic 
writer,  referring  to  their  modern  tendency  to  imitate  city 
folk,  says  that  if  the  peasantry  only  knew  how  superior 
they  are  to  the  rest  of  France,  this  craze  would  receive 
an  effectual  quietus.  In  religion  the  French  peasants 
are  of  course  predominantly  Roman  Catholic,  with, 
however,  a  fair  intermingling  of  Protestants;  and  it  is 
pleasant  to  know  that,  in  most  parts,  the  rural  repre- 
sentatives of  these  two  sects  are  on  friendly  terms  with 
each  other. 


XIV. 

FRENCH  HOME-LIFE. 

WE  have  been  repeatedly  reminded  that  the  French 
language  has  no  word,  or  even  phrase,  which  ex- 
presses exactly  what  people  of  the  English  tongue  mean 
by  the  word  home.  The  nearest  equivalent  to  it  is 
when  the  Frenchman  speaks  of  chez  moi,  which  means 
"  my  house."  This  is  suggestive;  for  besides  lacking  a 
suitable  term  to  designate  it,  the  French  home — whether 
you  judge  it  by  American  or  by  English  standards — is  de- 
ficient in  several  more  substantial  requisites.  From  the 
material  point  of  view  it  is  lacking  somewhat  in  com- 
fort. In  the  upper  circles  there  is  an  appearance  of 
elegance  about  French  interiors,  and  a  straining  after 
effects  in  the  matter  of  adornment;  but  there  is  a  no- 
ticeable lack  of  roominess,  if  one  may  so  speak,  and  not 
the  attention  one  could  desire  to  household  conveniences. 
The  guest-chamber  is  a  rare  appurtenance,  as  also  are 
those  sumptuous  easy-chairs  in  which  one  can  almost 
bury  himself  for  a  good  rest.  Carpets  are  conspicuous 
for  their  absence.  Where  taste  and  wealth  are,  you  will 
find  the  polished  floors  strewn  luxuriously  with  rugs, 
but  in  other  circles  you  have  only  the  bare  boards  to 
step  upon.  Heating  is  very  imperfect,  and  a  sojourn  in 

France  during  chilly  weather  leaves  you  amazed  at  the 

141 


142  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

degree  of  damp  and  cold  these  people  can  endure  with- 
out appearing  to  be  disturbed  by  it.  Altogether  the 
impression  you  get  is  that  the  French  are  a  fine-weather 
and  decidedly  out-of-door  set  of  people,  who  have  yet 
to  learn  the  art  of  a  cozy  indoor  life,  and  who,  paradox- 
ical as  the  remark  may  appear,  seem  to  be  most  at  home 
when  they  are  not  at  home. 

Nevertheless  the  formalities  of  family  life  are  more 
rigorously  observed  by  the  French  than  by  any  people 
we  have  known.  There  is  no  country  where  families 
hold  together  as  they  do  here.  The  principle  governing 
them  in  this  matter  is  patriarchal.  The  home  of  father 
and  mother  is  the  center  of  interest  for  all  the  olive- 
branches,  and  none  of  these  ever  become  so  old  or  so 
fruitful  as  not  to  make  it  a  frequent  place  of  sojourn. 
Whenever  it  can  be  done,  the  new  offshoots  are  pre- 
vented from  shooting  off  literally  by  being  still  retained 
under  the  parental  roof-tree;  and  when  this  is  not  prac- 
ticable, the  plan  most  favored  is  to  get  them  settled,  at 
marriage,  in  contiguous  houses.  We  were  so  happy  as 
to  sit  at  one  family  table  at  which  there  were  present, 
both  then  and  at  other  times,  three  families.  The  two 
younger  branches  had  domiciles  within  the  same  grounds. 
They  lived  apart,  but  ate  regularly  at  the  parental 
table;  and  it  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see.  This  is  often 
done  in  France.  It  is  in  harmony  with  the  French  ideal 
of  father's  home  being,  as  long  as  he  lives,  the  home  of 
all  the  children. 


FRENCH  HOME-LIFE.  143 

This  reminds  us  of  another  pleasing  feature  of  French 
home-life — the  regard  shown  in  its  arrangements  for  the 
aged.  At  the  table  above  mentioned  there  was  another 
elderly  matron  besides  the  venerable  hostess.  Who  was 
she?  Well,  she  was  the  widowed  mother  of  a  son-in-law 
of  this  family;  and  she  was  there  because  that  home 
happened,  at  this  period  in  her  checkered  life,  to  be  the 
one  most  naturally  opening  to  her.  She  was  not  there, 
however,  under  sufferance,  but  was  evidently  an  honored 
guest.  They  attend  to  such  things  as  these  admirably 
in  France.  Ministers  of  the  gospel  have  assured  us 
that  to  find  some  aged  dependent  sharing  the  tender  at- 
tentions of  French  families  is  a  common  thing,  even 
amongst  the  poorest.  Usually  it  is  an  aged  mother — 
often  the  mothers  on  both  sides  are  there.  "The  French 
are  remarkable  for  their  devotion  to  mother."  We  have 
heard  this  again  and  again,  and  we  believe  it.  In  refer- 
ence to  this  trait,  Max  O'Rell,  in  "The  Dear  Neigh- 
bors," makes  this  striking  remark:  "The  English  assas- 
sin, on  mounting  the  scaffold,  generally  gives  his  friends 
rendezvous  in  the  better  laud,  and  implores  his  Maker's 
pardon.  The  French  murderer  implores  the  pardon  of 
his  mother." 

But  the  family  feeling  in  France  reaches  out  its 
tendrils  of  sentiment  far  beyond  either  mother  or  father. 
It  embraces  practically  the  entire  circle  of  kindred,  and 
is  almost  as  regardful  of  matrimonial  connections  as  of 
blood  relationship.  The  French  have  numerous  fete 


144  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

days,  and  upon  one  of  the  uses  to  which  they  put  these 
they  are  certainly  to  be  congratulated.  Such  occasions 
are  utilized  for  bringing  together,  as  fully  as  possible, 
the  family  relations.  If  a  meeting  is  not  practicable, 
the  occasion  is  improved  by  the  exchange  of  letters- 
The  French  are  great  on  writing  to  each  other.  This  is 
a  formality  which  is  never  omitted  between  either  rela- 
tives or  acquaintances  on  the  1st  of  January,  and  there 
are  other  times  when  it  is  almost  as  general  as  on  New 
Year's  day.  Besides  which,  special  emphasis  is  given  to 
relationship  at  funerals.  In  proper  circles,  the  occasion 
is  always  announced  to  those  interested  by  cards;  and 
these  cards  are,  in  one  respect,  a  wonder  to  both  Amer- 
icans and  English.  You  are  invited  to  be  present  at 
the  obsequies,  not  only  by  the  family,  but  by  a  dozen  or 
two  of  the  kinsfolk  of  the  deceased,  including  even 
cousins  and  aunts,  and  the  names  of  all  these  are  for- 
mally printed  on  the  mourning-cards.  What  is  still 
more  touching,  you  find  home-ties  and  the  attachment 
for  kindred  strikingly  exhibited  in  French  cemeteries. 
The  vaults  are  nearly  all  "family"  vaults,  and  this  fact 
is  distinctly  announced  over  the  door  of  these  home-like 
structures.  Not  only  so,  but  if  you  visit  one  of  these 
bury  ing-places — Pere  la  Chaise,  for  instance — as  we  did, 
the  day  after  All  Soul's,  you  will  be  astonished  to  see 
how  generously  the  departed  members  of  the  family  are 
remembered  by  the  sorrowing  portion  with  floral  wreaths  ' 
and  what  will  still  more  surprise  you  will  be  to  observe. 


FRENCH  HOME-LIFE.  145 

from  the  inscriptions  upon  these  emblems,  how  many  of 
them  have  been  lovingly  laid  there  by  relations  in  the 
third  and  fourth  degrees. 

These  are  some  of  the  good  features  of  family  life  in 
France.  There  are  others,  of  course,  which  are  not  so 
good;  and  some  which,  from  our  point  of  view,  are  de- 
cidedly bad.  The  smallness  of  French  families  is  a 
standing  reproach.  It  not  only  reflects  on  French 
morals,  but  it  presents  a  grave  problem  to  French  econ- 
omists. While  England  and  Germany  are  reporting  a 
net  annual  increase  in  their  population  of  500,000  or 
more,  France  is  growing  annually  at  the  rate  of  only 
about  55,000,  and  is  not  unlikely,  under  present  con- 
ditions, to  become  stationary.  Appreciative  allusion 
has  been  made  to  the  presence  of  the  aged  in  so  many 
French  homes.  The  fact  is,  you  are  more  likely  to  find 
old  people  in  them  than  young  people.  For  vast  dis- 
tricts of  France  the  average  of  children  is  two  in  each 
family,  and  in  some  parts  the  average  falls  to  one. 

This  is  a  delicate  subject,  but  a  most  vital  one.  At 
the  bottom  of  it  you  find  the  worst  feature  of  the 
French  character;  namely,  a  calculating  sordidness. 
The  way  in  which  they  reduce  the  sacred  function  of 
parentage  to  a  material  basis  would  be  amusing  if  it 
did  not  shock  you  so  much.  Two  instances,  coming 
under  our  own  observation,  will  illustrate  this.  The 
wife  of  a  workman,  with  a  little  boy  of  eight,  complains 

mildly  that,  for  a  family  of  three,  the  apartment  is  too 

10 


146  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

limited.  "But  suppose  you  had  six  children  instead  of 
oue?"  "  O,"  is  the  innocent  reply,  "  \ve  couldn't — we 
haven't  room!"  A  lovely  old  French  lady  is  visiting 
us,  and  the  conversation  turns  upon  large  families. 
Mention  is  made  incidentally  of  an  honored  Irish  couple 
who  increased  the  population  of  their  country  by  four- 
teen. "O,"  exclaimed  our  dear  old  friend,  "how  could 
they  afford  it?"  That  is  the  French  view  exactly;  and 
a  few  years  ago  the  French  Government,  recognizing 
this  mercenary  aspect  of  the  situation,  met  it  in  a  mer- 
cenary spirit;  that  is,  it  passed  a  law  providing  that 
French  parents,  who  are  willing  to  trust  Providence  in 
this  matter  beyond  the  ordinary  average  of  their  fellow- 
citizens,  shall  be  assisted  in  so  doing  by  grants  from  the 
national  exchequer. 

French  mothers,  it  appears,  notwithstanding  their 
fond  devotion  at  a  later  period,  are  not  at  all  inclined 
to  burden  themselves  with  the  care  of  their  offspring  at 
the  time  when  maternal  nourishment  is  needed.  Cer- 
tainly the  well-to-do  are  not;  and  hence  the  large  requi- 
sition made  upon  Alsace  and  Brittany  for  those  pictur- 
esquely-costumed nurses,  who  in  bright  weather,  form, 
with  their  elegantly-attired  charges,  so  conspicuous  a 
feature  of  the  afternoon  crowds  in  the  Champs  Elysees 
and  the  Bois  de  Bologne.  With  their  decided  penchant 
for  novelty  in  dress,  it  has  also  been  arranged  by  thought- 
ful French  mammas  that  the  costume  of  these  nurses 
shall  indicate,  by  its  predominant  shades,  the  sex  of 


FRENCH  HOME-LIFE.  147 

these  French  babies.  If  red  be  in  the  ascendency,  the 
infantile  burden  is  a  girl;  if  blue,  the  family  is  the 
richer  or  poorer  by  a  son  and  heir.  They  do  say,  too, 
that  for  a  twelvemonth  or  so  French  babies  are  not 
dressed — only  swathed  and  bound ;  and  that,  though 
they  are  often  taken  out,  they  are  wrapped  up  so  se- 
curely against  sun  and  atmosphere  as  quite  to  reverse 
in  their  complexions  the  ordinary  infantile  redness,  and 
present  to  you  instead  a  face  that  rivals  the  lily.  This 
custom  may  account,  in  some  measure,  for  the  excessive 
mortality  amongst  French  infants,  as  it  may  also  be  one 
of  the  reasons  why  French  children,  as  they  approach 
their  teens — the  boys  especially — look  so  frail  and 
delicate. 

Speaking  of  children,  however,  and  how  they  are 
treated  in  the  French  home,  that  which  will  seem  to 
Americans  to  be  more  reprehensible  than  anything  else,  is 
the  strict  guardianship  exercised  over  growing  daughters, 
and  the  French  notion  that  a  young  lady,  to  be  prop- 
erly reared,  must  be  kept  in  almost  perfect  seclusion 
from  young  men.  The  chaperon  is  pre-eminently 
French,  both  in  name  and  as  a  recognized  feature  of 
family  government.  Where  so  many  women  are  ac- 
cused of  being  fast,  it  seems  very  odd  to  think  that  the 
recognized  code  does  not  allow  young  ladies  to  go  out, 
not  even  on  a  shopping  expedition,  without  some  older 
person  to  keep  watch  over  them,  and  forbids  that  they 
shall  converse  with  unmarried  men  excepting  under 


148  IN  SUNNY  FRAXCE. 

the  same  restrictions.  Such,  however,  the  code  is;  and 
there  are  many  who  think  that  this  over-zealous  pro- 
vision for  the  protection  of  girls  becomes  in  the  end  a 
snare  and  danger  to  them,  and  is  accountable  largely 
for  certain  well-known  aspects  of  French  life  which  it 
would  not  be  pleasant  for  us  to  dwell  upon.  That 
somewhat  Americanized  Frenchman,  Max  O'Rell,  speaks 
to  his  compatriots  very  plainly  on  this  subject.  His 
contention  is  that  the  purity  of  young  women  can  be 
best  conserved  by  placing  it  in  their  own  keeping. 
"Seeing  that  young  people  of  opposite  sexes  are  allowed 
to  whirl  round  a  ball-room  in  each  other's  arms,  it  really 
seems  preposterous  that  they  should  not  be  permitted  to 
meet  together  in  the  fields  to  play  at  lawn-tennis  or 
croquet;"  and  the  difficult  problem  of  how  to  rear  chil- 
dren properly  will  be  solved  in  France,  he  says,  "  when 
our  boys  and  girls — thanks  to  the  liberty  accorded  to 
them  from  infancy — are  able  to  frequent  each  other's 
society  without  astonishment " 

Hospitality,  in  the  broad  sense  of  that  term,  is  sadly 
lacking  in  the  French  home.  The  latch-string  is  always 
out  to  the  children,  and  on  formal  occasions  to  the  far- 
reaching  circle  of  kindred;  but  the  Frenchman  who 
should  wish  an  outsider  to  dine  with  him  would  be 
more  likely  to  invite  him  to  a  cafe  than  to  his  own 
house.  There  are  exceptions,  of  course,  as  our  own  ex- 
perience has  shown;  but  this  is  the  rule.  The  dinner- 
parties to  acquaintances  and  neighbors,  so  common  and 


FRP;NCH  HOME-L,IFE.  149 

so  delightful  in  America,  are  scarcely  known  in  France; 
and  it  is  also  rare,  excepting  in  the  mansions  of  the 
wealthy,  for  visitors  to  be  offered  lodgment  for  the 
night.  In  large  cities  the  flat  system- — which  usually 
means  an  insufficiency  of  room — makes  this  almost  im- 
possible; but  it  is  the  same,  we  are  assured,  in  the 
country,  and  even  amongst  peasants. 

At  marriage-feasts  there  is  an  ample  spread  in  the 
peasant's  cottage,  and  many  are  bidden ;  but  beyond 
this  the  peasant's  nearest  neighbor,  who  is  hardly  ever 
more  than  a  mile  off,  might  as  well  be  a  hundred  miles 
distant,  we  are  told,  so  far  as  the  exchange  of  hospi- 
tality is  concerned.  It  is  declared,  too,  that  in  cities 
you  may  know  a  man  intimately  for  years,  and  may 
even  call  upon  him,  without  ever  meeting  his  wife  or 
being  introduced  to  his  daughters.  This  is  owing,  as 
one  can  easily  see,  to  those  French  notions,  almost  Ori- 
ental in  their  severity,  which  tend  to  keep  the  two  sexes 
so  much  apart  from  each  other,  and  which  doom  so 
many  properly-behaved  French  women  to  lives  of  com- 
parative seclusion. 

But  the  French  wife  is  not  without  her  privileges 
when  it  comes  to  footing  the  bills.  At  this  point,  in- 
deed, French  law  lays  its  hand  upon  her,  and  makes 
her  a  fellow-sharer  with  the  husband  in  household  ex- 
penses. Assuming  that  she  has  an  income — as  most 
French  wives  have,  either  from  their  labor  or  from 
some  dowry  or  inheritance — assuming  this,  she  can  be 


150  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

held  responsible  to  the  extent  of  oue-third  of  such  in- 
come for  whatever  may  be  needed  to  support  the  fam- 
ily. This  is  how  French  law  takes  hold  of  the  woman 
in  the  case.  But  there  are  many  ways  in  which  it  puts 
the  man  also  under  bonds.  In  disposing  of  his  prop- 
erty he  can  do  as  he  pleases  with  only  a  very  small 
portion  of  it.  His  estate,  real  and  personal,  is  as  much 
the  property  of  his  children,  and,  failing  these,  of  cer- 
tain other  relatives,  as  it  is  his  own.  What  is  more,  he 
can  make  no  will  which  could  prevent  his  children 
from  being  equal  sharers  in  it.  He  could  not  do  this 
even  by  a  deed  of  gift  during  his  life;  for  if  he  gave 
away  more  than  his  own  "disposable  quota,"  as  it  is 
called,  the  excess  could  be  recovered  by  process  of  law. 
When  there  is  one  child,  this  quota  (quotite  disponible) 
is  half  the  property;  when  there  are  two  children,  a 
third;  when  there  are  three  or  more,  a  fourth. 
:^  It  seems  very  strange  that  a  man  should  be  so  re- 
stricted, as  all  this  implies,  in  disposing  of  his  own 
property.  So,  also,  does  it  seem  strange  that  a  woman 
in  France  should  be  required  by  the  law  to  wait  ten 
months  after  being  divorced  or  widowed  before  she  can 
marry  again,  while  the  man  is  permitted  in  such  a  case 
to  follow  the  devices  and  desires  of  his  own  heart.  But 
this  is  a  strange  country;  at  any  rate,  it  is  different 
from  ours,  and  hence  must  be  judged  by  somewhat  dif- 
ferent standards.  We  could  hardly  approve  of  all 


FRENCH  HOME-LIFE.  151 

French  customs,  though  others  of  them  we  should  be 
the  better  for  copying;  and  it  will  surely  appear  from 
what  we  have  written  upon  the  subject  that  there  are 
some  most  admirable  and  really  enviable  things  cluster- 
ing about  French  home-life. 


XV. 

THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM. 

EVEN  though  there  were  no  other  improvements  it 
could  show,  the  Third  Republic  has  abundantly 
justified  its  existence  by  the  development  it  has  effected 
in  the  educational  system.  Public  education  in  France 
is  divided  into  three  departments — primary,  secondary, 
and  higher;  and  each  of  these  has  experienced  within 
twenty  years  an  infusion  of  new  life,  coupled  with  an 
extension  of  its  boundaries,  such  as  had  not  been  known 
in  the  preceding  fifty  years,  and  which  under  the  old 
order  of  things  might  not  have  been  realized  for  half  a 
century  to  come.  Chief  amongst  these  developments  is 
that  which  has  made  primary  education  compulsory,  and 
at  the  same  time  absolutely  free.  Another  is  the  rapid 
multiplication  of  Technical  Schools,  which  have  in- 
creased at  such  a  rate  under  the  new  impulse  given  to 
them  that  the  twenty -six  which  existed  in  1879  had 
grown  in  1883  to  the  number  of  four  hundred,  with 
the  most  gratifying  progress  since  that  time.  Then 
there  was  the  establishment,  in  1880,  of  Public  Lycees 
for  girls,  which  the  State  held  to  be  necessary  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  training  of  the  womanhood  of  the 
country  had  been  heretofore  almost  entirely  in  the 

hands  of  the  Catholic  Church.     This,  it  need  hardly  be 
152 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM.  153 

said,  is  another  reform  which  has  produced  gratifying 
results.  And,  finally,  there  has  been  witnessed  in 
France,  since  the  Republic  was  re-established,  a  com- 
plete severance,  after  a  brave  and  prolonged  struggle, 
of  the  entire  educational  system,  both  in  its  higher  and 

.lower  grades,  from   the  domination,  and  even  from  the 

. 

interference,  of  every  form  of  ecclesiasticism. 

There  is  no  reason  now  why  every  one  in  France 
should  not  be  educated,  and  why  the  poorest  may  not 
aspire  after  the  highest  educational  privileges  this  en- 
lightened Government  is  holding  out.  Not  only  is 
primary  education  gratuitous,  but  the  training  offered 
in  the  university  is  virtually  so;  and  as  to  the  inter- 
mediary stages  and  the  schooling  offered  to  those  who 
wish  to  perfect  themselves  in  special  branches,  this  also 
is  practically  free  to  those  who  can  not  afford  to  pay 
for  it.  The  lycees  and  colleges,  it  is  true,  exact  a  small 
sum  for  tuition  and  board.  This  is  done  that  those 
having  means  may  have  the  privilege  of  helping  out 
the  Government  in  the  great  burdens  it  has  assumed  in 
behalf  of  those  not  so  well  off  in  the  world.  It  should 
be  noted,  too,  that  these  institutions,  which  are  classed 
as  the  agencies  of  Secondary  Education,  receive  for  pay 
pupils  who  would  otherwise  be  eligible,  owing  to  their 
tender  age,  for  free  tuition  in  the  schools  of  the  primary 
department.  Thus  all  classes  are  provided  for.  Those 
who  desire  exclusiveness  can  have  it  at  the  minimum  of 
cost;  and  what  makes  this  arrangement  one  which  can 


154  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

not  be  objected  to  by  the  poor  is,  that  the  same  schools 
are  open  at  a  later  period  to  those  who  pass  with  supe- 
rior credit  through  the  free  schools.  This  the  Govern- 
ment provides  for  by  a  most  generous  offer  of  scholar- 
ships; and  it  speaks  volumes  in  praise  of  both  the 
system  and  the  pupils  that  there  have  been  periods  in 
which  the  children  of  the  working-people,  those  attend- 
ing the  State  primary  schools,  have  profited  by  this 
offer  of  scholarships  to  the  number  of  from  3,000  to 
4,000  a  year. 

The  conferring  of  degrees  is  a  matter  which  the 
Government  has  gotten  now  entirely  into  its  own  hands. 
Upon  this  point  it  has  had  a  fierce  contest  with  the 
Church,  but  the  Church  has  been  defeated.  Consider- 
ing, too,  that  the  bachelors'  degree  is  requisite  in  France 
to  admission  into  the  professions,  as  well  as  for  appoint- 
ment to  certain  offices  of  State — like  that  of  judge,  for 
instance — it  would  seem  as  though  the  Government,  in 
carrying  out  its  motto  of  liberty  and  equality,  had  no 
other  course  left  to  it.  Another  fierce  contest  had  to 
be  waged  with  the  Church  upon  the  grave  question  of 
the  qualifications  required  in  teachers.  Under  the  old 
system  the  teaching  in  primary  schools  was  largely  in 
the  hands  of  nuns  and  members  of  Catholic  brother- 
hoods, and  all  that  was  deemed  necessary  in  the  ap- 
pointment of  such  teachers  was  that  their  fitness  should 
be  certified  to  by  some  bishop  or  lady  superior.  But 
other  aspirants  for  places  of  this  kind  had  to  pass  an 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM.  155 

examination,  and  be  certificated  by  the  State.  Here 
was  decided  inequality,  not  to  say  injustice,  and  the 
Republic  has  cut  this  knot  of  difficulty  by  putting  all 
teachers  upon  the  same  level.  In  fact,  it  has  gone 
farther  than  this,  and  has  provided  that  after  a  certain 
period — now  nearly  expired — no  member  of  a  religious 
order  shall  be  employed  in  State  schools  under  any  cir- 
cumstances. 

After  this  statement  it  will  be  no  news  to  say  that 
the  teaching  of  religion  is  not  allowed  in  the  public 
schools  of  France.  It  may,  however,  be  something  of 
a  surprise  to  learn  that  the  curricula  make  special  pro- 
vision for  moral  teaching,  especially  so  when  it  is  learned 
that  the  moral  teaching  afforded  includes  the  duties 
owed  by  man  to  the  Supreme  Being.  What  the  Gov- 
ernment has  aimed  at  has  been  merely  the  exclusion  of 
dogmatic  religious  teaching.  In  other  words,  it  has 
taken  a  firm  stand  against  the  conversion  of  State  schools 
into  parochial  schools,  and  the  use  of  public  money  and 
Government  sanction — as  these  have  been  largely  used 
heretofore — in  upholding  the  national  supremacy  of  a 
particular  Church.  The  State  is  careful  to  declare  in 
this  matter  that  it  is  not  opposed  to  religion  itself,  and 
it  has  practically  demonstrated  this,  one  would  think, 
by  the  religious  scope  it  allows  in  the  teaching  of  mor- 
als. What  is  more,  this  accommodating  Government 
has  made  it  possible  for  religious  instruction  by  the  va- 
rious Churches  to  go  on,  if  those  interested  wish  it  to 


156  IN  SUNNY  FRANCK. 

do  so,  concurrently  with  its  own  gratuitously  imparted 
secular  instruction.  This,  by  providing  that  during  one 
entire  day  of  each  week  the  State  schools  shall  be  closed, 
leaving  the  children  to  go  elsewhere  as  parents,  priests, 
or  pastors  may  desire  them  to  do. 

Recurring  to  the  subject  of  higher  education,  it  must 
be  noted  that  there  is  but  one  university  for  the  whole 
of  France.  Strictly  speaking,  in  fact,  the  University  of 
France  embraces  the  entire  educational  system,  with 
every  school  controlled  by  the  three  departments  before 
mentioned.  That,  however,  which  answers  to  our  notion 
of  university-teaching  is  carried  on  by  what  are  called 
academies,  these  being  divided  again  into  various  fac- 
ulties. In  all,  there  are  seventeen  academies,  and  these, 
of  course,  are  conveniently  distributed  amongst  the 
largest  towns.  Paris  has  one,  and  inevitably  it  is  the 
best.  This  city  is  indeed  the  only  place  where  all  the 
faculties  of  instruction  are  represented,  the  other  cen- 
ters of  higher  education  being  variously  blessed  in  this 
respect  according  to  their  importance  or  enterprise — 
some  of  them  having  only  one  or  two  of  these  facul- 
ties. Naturally,  therefore,  Paris  draws  upon  the  whole 
nation,  and  has  perhaps  a  full  one-half  of  all  the  stu- 
dents. To  show  how  completely  the  dominant  Church 
has  been  driven  from  its  former  position  in  university 
teaching  we  need  cite  only  one  fact,  which  is,  that  it 
has  not  a  single  faculty  of  theology  under"  State  au- 
spices ;  whereas  the  Protestants  have  two — one  at  Paris, 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM.  157 

and  the  other  at  Montaubon.  Not  only  so,  but  the 
Catholic  Church  has  no  properly  accredited  representa- 
tives amongst  the  sixteen  hundred  or  more  university- 
professors — a  fact,  however,  which  has,  unfortunately, 
its  dark  side ;  for  it  is  estimated  by  those  thoroughly 
familiar  with  university  life  that  about  four  out  of  every 
six  of  the  professors  are  agnostics;  the  same  authorities 
assuring  us  that  the  proportion  of  agnostics  among  stu. 
dents  is  still  greater. 

The  discipline  in  lycees  and  colleges  partakes  nat- 
urally of  that  which  is  in  vogue  in  well-regulated  French 
homes.  There  is  perhaps  no  country  where  adult  life 
travels  so  generally  along  lines  which  the  American 
would  call  "fast;"  and,  at  the  same  time,  we  know  of 
no  civilized  country  in  which  boys  and  girls,  up  to  a 
certain  age,  are  kept  under  such  strict  surveillance. 
Perhaps  the  later  excesses  are  a  natural  rebound  from 
the  earlier  repression.  Be  this  as  it  may,  youthful  life 
in  France,  whether  at  home  or  at  school,  is  very  much 
of  a  prison-life  for  both  sexes.  We  are  referring  now 
particularly  to  high-class  schools,  which  are  largely 
patronized  by  the  bourgeois,  and  where  many  of  the 
pupils  are  received  as  boarders.  The  boys,  when  taken 
out  for  a  walk,  are  always  vigilantly  attended,  and  they 
carry  about  with  them  a  most  distressing  air  of  shyness. 
One  is  impressed,  indeed,  that  they  are  altogether  effem- 
inate in  their  appearance,  affording  a  complete  contrast 
in  both  physique  and  manners  to  American  school-boys 


158  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

of  the  same  age  and  class.  As  for  the  poor  girls,  they 
are  more  demure-looking  than  the  average  nun,  and 
when  you  learn  what  their  lives  are  you  are  not  sur- 
prised at  this.  They  are  watched  as  vigilantly  at  night 
as  by  day.  Literally,  they  are  never  free  from  over- 
sight, not  even  when  they  are  asleep;  for  the  rule  in 
the  new  lycees  for  girls  is  to  lodge  them  in  long  dormi- 
tories, holding  thirty  or  more  beds,  these  being  separated 
only  by  a  screen;  and  each  dormitory  has  its  female 
guard,  who  overlooks  these  sleeping  innocents  as  rigor- 
ously, they  say,  as  though  she  were  a  death-watch  keep- 
ing vigil  over  condemned  criminals. 

As  to  day -scholars,  they  are  never  allowed,  if  they 
are  girls,  to  make  the  distance  between  home  and  school 
unattended.  Generally  an  omnibus  is  at  their  service ; 
and  if  this  is  not  used,  the  discipline  of  the  school  makes 
it  imperative  that  they  shall  be  accompanied  there  and 
back  by  some  female  cJiaperon — this  rule  being  so  strict 
that  its  infraction  would  be  visited  by  the  pupil's  ex- 
pulsion. There  is  little  danger,  however;  for  French 
mammas  are  as  rigorously  scrupulous  in  this  matter  as 
are  the  managers  of  French  schools.  It  is,  in  fact,  in 
strict  harmony  with  the  entire  French  system,  which 
not  only  secludes  girls  from  association  before  marriage 
with  the  opposite  sex,  but  which  keeps  them  apart  until 
the  school-life  is  finished,  from  society  of  every  kind. 
The  French  school-girl  knows  nothing  of  parties,  not 
even  of  dove  parties.  Such  diversions  are  not  tolerated 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM  159 

by  either  parents  or  tutors.  The  school-years  are  years 
of  mechanical  drudgery  and  social  abnegation;  the  re- 
sult being,  of  course,  that  they  are  well  educated — no 
doubt  about  that — but  are  as  little  fitted  for  actual 
contact  with  the  struggles  and  temptations  of  such  a 
life  as  is  before  them  in  France  as  can  possibly  be  im- 
agined. 

To  the  faculties,  which  represent  what  Americans 
would  call  university-teaching,  women  are  admitted  side 
by  side  with  men;  and  in  the  various  professions  repre- 
sented, not  excepting  those  of  surgery  and  medicine, 
they  are  allowed  in  these  days  an  equal  chance  with  the 
lords  of  creation  to  practice  on  an  unsuspecting  public; 
but  in  subordinate  education  the  sexes  are  taught  sep- 
arately. This  is  required  by  the  law,  and  the  stipula- 
tion applies  almost  as  rigidly  to  primary  as  to  secondary 
schools.  Every  Commune  having  more  than  five  hun- 
dred inhabitants  must  have  both  its  boys'  and  its  girls' 
department — if  not  in  separate  buildings,  at  least  in 
separate  rooms,  and  with  separate  entrances.  It  is  also 
an  invariable  custom  for  the  girls  to  be  taught  by  those 
of  their  own  sex,  and  the  boys  the  same.  They  are 
very  particular  in  France  about  matters  of  this  kind. 
The  only  variations  are  in  maternal  schools,  where  the 
children  are  taken  before  the  primary  schools  are  open 
to  them,  and  in  private  schools,  which  are  allowed  by 
a  special  dispensation  of  the  Government  to  teach  the 
sexes  together  in  special  cases  up  to  the  age  of  ten.  This 


160  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

reminds  us,  too,  that  private  schools — those  which  are 
not  supported,  but  are  only  inspected,  by  the  State — 
cut  a  considerable  figure  in  France;  and  most  of  them, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  are  maintained  by  the  money  and 
in  the  interest  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  Over 
these  the  Government  assumes  control  only  in  regard  to 
sanitation  and  morals. 

The  compulsory  school-age  is  from  six  to  thirteen 
years.  Between  those  periods  all  children  must  be  en- 
rolled in  either  a  public  or  private  school ;  and  in  case 
it  is  the  wish  of  parents  to  have  their  children  instructed 
at  home,  not  only  must  this  matter  of  enrollment  be  at- 
tended to,  but  after  the  age  of  eight,  these  pampered 
offsprings  of  fortune  are  liable,  technically,  to  a  yearly 
examination.  This,  to  satisfy  the  responsible  authorities 
that  they  are  not  growing  up  illiterate.  When  children, 
not  otherwise  provided  for,  are  not  in  attendance  at  the 
State  schools,  the  names  of  their  parents,  as  an  admoni- 
tory step,  are  placarded  on  the  town  hall;  and  later  on, 
if  the  offense  be  continued,  they  are  fined;  and,  as  a 
last  resort,  may  be  imprisoned  by  a  justice  of  the  peace. 
Corporal  punishment  is  not  allowed  in  the  schools  of 
France;  but  it  will  interest  Americans  to  know  that 
one  thing  which  is  allowed  in  them — or,  at  least,  over 
them — is  the  national  flag.  It  is,  in  fact,  more  than 
allowed — it  is  required;  and  the  reason  assigned  is 
that  all  public-school  buildings  being  State  buildings, 


THE  EDUCATIONAL  SYSTEM.  161 

they  must   naturally  share  with  all  other  Government 
property  the  honor  of  floating  the  Tricolor. 

All  teachers  are  required  to  take  a  Normal  course, 
or  its  equivalent.  There  are  two  examinations.  After 
passing  the  first,  the  certificate  obtained  entitles  its 
holder  to  a  position  only  in  country  schools.  For  serv- 
ice in  the  centers  of  intelligence,  a  would-be  pedagogue 
must  have  qualified  iu  full.  What  makes  it  easier  than 
it  would  otherwise  be  to  enforce  the  compulsory  clause 
in  French  education  is,  that  those  who  attend  school 
from  six  to  thirteen,  or  who  pass  the  standard  before 
thirteen,  are  accredited  to  the  community  as  having 
done  so,  the  credentials  they  thus  acquire  being  of  great 
service  to  them  in  entering  business  life;  so  much  so 
that  a  boy  lacking  this  recommendation  would  hardly 
be  engaged  for  anything  but  manual  labor.  Thus 
everything  seems  to  favor  the  new  educational  move- 
ment, and  that  the  movement  itself  will  bring  favorable 
returns  to  the  Republic  which  has  brought  it  to  pass, 
can  not  be  doubted. 

11 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS. 

THE  marriage  customs  of  France  are  decidedly 
peculiar.  To  describe  them  intelligently  we  must 
refer,  first  of  all,  to  those  delightful  preliminaries  of 
wedlock  which  are  summed  up  in  America  under  the 
general  name  of  courtship.  At  once,  however,  a  diffi- 
culty arises;  for  the  things  embraced  in  that  name,  to 
American  thought,  are  conspicuous  in  France  by  their 
absence.  In  our  country  we  always  think  of  courtship 
as  something  which  has  for  its  basis  an  intimate  com- 
panionship between  the  two  parties,  and  which  finds  its 
expression  in  quiet  moonlight  walks,  and  in  the  occa- 
sional monopoly  of  the  parlor  together.  Somewhere, 
too,  are  American  lovers  brought  face  to  face  during 
their  courtship  with  a  great  crisis.  As  a  rule  they 
dread  this  in  anticipation,  but  it  usually  turns  out  to  be 
anything  but  a  dreadful  ordeal  in  practice.  What  we 
refer  to  is  the  custom  which  is  commonly  spoken  of  as 
"popping  the  question."  It  will  be  noted,  too,  that 
American  candidates  for  matrimonial  felicity  are  re- 
ferred to,  in  what  we  have  said  of  them,  as  lovers, 
which,  as  a  general  thing,  is  emphatically  what  they 
are,  and  what  a  strong  popular  sentiment  requires  them 
to  be.  These  are  our  time-honored  American  notions; 
162 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS.  163 

and  they  are  so  much  enjoyed,  as  a  rule,  and  seem  to  be 
so  necessary  to  a  proper  adjustment  of  things  matri- 
monial that  we  can  hardly  conceive  how  it  would  be  pos- 
sible to  get  along  without  them. 

But  the  French  manage  to  do  so.  It  will  seem  like 
a  singular  statement,  but  it  is  only  the  truth  to  say 
that,  in  the  upper  and  middle  classes  of  this  country, 
courtship,  as  we  understand  it,  is  almost  entirely  un- 
known. The  preliminaries  of  wedlock  are  all  arranged 
by  third  parties.  One  is  spared  here  the  happy  wretch- 
edness of  falling  in  love,  as  well  as  the  miserable  delight 
of  making  a  personal  proposal.  It  would  seem,  indeed, 
as  though  love  cut  scarcely  any  figure  in  the  arrange- 
ments; and  as  to  moonlight  rambles,  with  only  the 
moon  for  a  witness,  young  couples  in  France,  from  fear 
either  of  the  man  in  the  moon  or  man  in  the  abstract, 
are  forbidden  such  things.  Custom,  in  fact,  is  so  very 
strict  that  it  does  not  allow  them  to  be  alone  together 
for  even  a  quiet  tete-a-tete  in  the  drawing-room.  Nor  is 
this  all ;  but  it  is  only  under  a  strict  system  of  parental 
oversight  that  the  couple  are  permitted  to  correspond 
•with  each  other. 

One  wonders  how,  under  a  system  like  this,  the 
matrimonial  ranks  are  ever  recruited,  and  this  query 
opens  the  way  for  some  further  astonishing  statements. 
The  celibate  state  is  more  common  than  with  us.  In 
America  the  presumption  would  be,  with  reference  to 
the  average  young  man  of  fair  prospects  in  life,  that 


164  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

after  awhile  he  will  take  uuto  himself  a  better-half; 
whereas,  in  France,  one  would  be  warranted  in  pre- 
mising, unless  the  young  man  had  expressed  a  distinct 
purpose  to  the  contrary,  that  he  would  remain  single. 
As  to  girls,  it  would  really  seem  as  though  their  chance 
for  getting  married  depended  entirely  upon  how  much 
money  they  have.  To  speak  here  of  the  matrimonial 
market  is  not  a  misnomer.  There  are  exceptions  to  all 
rules,  but  these  exceptions  do  not  invalidate  the  rule ; 
and  the  rule  in  France  is,  that  a  girl  who  is  well  brought 
up,  but  whose  parents  or  friends  are  unable  to  give  her 
a  dowry,  will  not  be  troubled  with  an  offer  of  marriage. 
She  could  easily  enough  pick  up  a  husband  from  the 
classes  she  holds  to  be  beneath  her,  but  the  caste  feeling 
is  as  rigid  in  France  as  are  the  marriage  customs;  and 
hence  our  well-raised,  well-educated  French  girl,  lack- 
ing a  respectable  dot,  as  it  is  called,  will  presumably 
live  on  to  the  end  of  her  days  in  single  blessedness. 

From  this  rule  of  exacting  a  dowry  with  his  wife, 
one  can  hardly  except  even  the  humblest  workman. 
The  bride  must  always  bring  something  to  the  union. 
If  she  is  so  poor  as  not  to  have  a  few  hundred  francs 
laid  up  for  her  wedding-day,  then  her  dot  will  tech- 
nically consist  of  her  wardrobe,  and  possibly  a  few  arti- 
cles of  furniture;  with,  perchance,  a  skillful  pair  of 
hands,  and  an  understanding  on  both  sides  that  she  is 
to  help  out  on  household  expenses  by  daily  labor  in 
some  shop.  And  here,  by  the  way,  is  a  suggestion  of 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS.  165 

the  argument  which  the  French  offer  in  justification  of 
this  custom.  What  they  say  is,  that  amongst  the  poorer 
classes  the  wages  of  the  man  are  so  low  that  but  for 
help  from  the  other  side  of  the  house  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  the  married  couple  to  subsist;  and  in  re- 
gard to  those  who  are  higher  up  in  the  social  scale,  the 
difficulty,  they  say,  is  the  same.  Young  men  in  an 
ordinary  way  of  business  get  scarcely  enough  to  support 
themselves,  and  to  undertake  the  support  of  another, 
without  a  proper  provision  for  some  increase  of  funds, 
would  be  an  act  of  imprudent  rashness;  especially  as 
French  women  are  fond  of  luxury,  and  have  such  ex- 
travagant tastes  in  dress.  This  is  the  putting  of  the 
case  from  the  French  point  of  view,  and  it  is  surely 
plausible  if  not  entirely  satisfactory. 

To  this  custom  must  be  accredited  a  large  measure 
of 'the  proverbial  French  thrift.  The  advent  of  a  girl 
baby  into  the  family  marks  a  new  era  in  household 
management.  This  atom  of  humanity,  if  she  is  finally 
to  marry,  must  have  a  dot,  and  even  thus  early  do  the 
thoughtful  parents  begin  to  economize  and  lay  by  in 
order  to  provide  this  requisite.  Another  effect  it  has 
on  French  life  is  to  make  wives,  to  a  very  large  extent, 
partners  with  their  husbands  in  business.  The  wife 
generally  invests  her  marriage  portion  in  this  way,  and, 
having  a  decided  penchant — as  nearly  all  French  women 
have — for  careful  financiering,  she  generally  also  retains 
control  over  her  investment  by  means  of  a  legal  part- 


166  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

nership.  In  other  ways  the  effects  are  less  gratifying. 
The  girl  who  has  an  ample  dowry  at  her  command,  be- 
ing prepared  to  give  much,  will  naturally  expect  much 
in  return.  She  will  always  demand  the  equivalent  of 
what  her  own  fortune  amounts  to;  and  her  parents, 
who  really  have  the  control  of  this  matter,  will  often 
stand  out  for  much  more.  Hence  she  is  more  likely 
than  not  to  find  herself  tied  for  life  to  a  man  nearly 
twice  her  own  age — a  sort  of  marriage  which  is  hardly 
ever  conducive  to  either  happiness  or  good  morals,  and 
which  in  France,  if  all  reports  are  true,  is  decidedly 
conducive  in  very  many  cases  to  the  opposite  of  these 
conditions. 

The  effect  upon  young  men  and  women  is  more 
lamentable  still.  Single-blessedness,  if  self-imposed  for 
conscientious  reasons,  is  a  state  of  life  which  presents 
few  dangers,  and  which  may  open  to  some  persons  ex- 
traordinary opportunities  of  usefulness.  When,  how- 
ever, vast  masses  of  young  people,  with  no  inclinations 
toward  such  a  life,  find  ^themselves  condemned  to  it  by 
arbitary  laws  or  rigid  social  customs,  the  results  must 
be  bad,  and  only  bad,  both  for  the  individuals  them- 
selves and  for  society  at  large;  and  that  results  of  this 
kind  are  not  wanting  in  France  is  only  too  dreadfully 
apparent,  whether  you  seek  them  in  a  certain  class  of 
statistics,  or  draw  your  estimate  from  what  you  see  and 
hear  in  the  large  cities  of  this  nation.  But  this  is  a 
topic  quite  too  unsavory  to  be  enlarged  upon ;  and,  be- 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS.  167 

sides,  we  have  undertaken  to  sketch  at  this  time,  not 
the  results  of  French  marriage  customs,  but  the  customs 
themselves. 

The  usual  course  with  the  young  man  is,  as  we  have 
hinted,  first  to  make  up  his  mind  whether  he  will  or 
will  not  get  married.  This  question  he  will  settle,  as  a 
rule,  when  he  is  thirty  or  thereabouts.  Then  the  ques- 
tion arises,  who  are  the  availables,  and,  amongst  these, 
which  is  the  most  promising?  To  settle  these  matters 
he  must  confer  with  his  friends;  and  always  one  of  the 
chief  points  of  inquiry  will  relate  to  financial  matters. 
The  girl  being  found,  the  next  thing  is  to  become  pos- 
sessed of  her — more  particularly  of  her  dowry.  But 
this  being  purely  a  business  matter,  it  must  be  attended 
to  in  a  business-like  manner.  If  there  are  parents,  the 
arrangements  are  all  left  to  them.  If  not,  the  kindly 
services  of  others  must  be  invoked.  Perhaps  a  priest 
will  be  induced  to  mediate,  but  more  frequently  still  it 
is  some  middle-aged  and  sagacious  female  who  acts. 
And  now,  without  ever  having  spoken  to  each  other 
except  in  the  most  casual  way,  the  couple  are  engaged. 
In  fact,  it  not  infrequently  happens  that  they  find  them- 
selves betrothed  before  they  have  even  met — in  some 
cases  before  they  have  seen  each  other. 

This  is  not  a  caricature — it  is  only  a  fair  representa- 
tion of  how,  in  the  upper  and  middle  classes,  an  "en- 
gagement" is  effected.  What  occurs  afterwards  may 
easily  be  inferred  from  what  we  have  previously  said 


168  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

on  the  subject  of  courting.  We  can  only  reiterate  that 
there  is  no  courting,  either  before  the  engagement  or 
after  it.  The  interchanges  between  the  couple  are 
purely  formal,  and  always  in  the  presence  of  third 
parties.  After  a  certain  probation  they  may  embrace 
at  their  meetings  and  partings,  but  that  is  all ;  and  so 
matters  go  on  till  the  wedding-day. 

Are  there,  then,  no  love-matches  in  France?  Un- 
doubtedly there  are ;  because,  if  love  laughs  at  lock- 
smiths, what  is  to  hinder  him  from  being  equally  defiant 
toward  ridiculous  social  customs?  It  may  even  happen 
occasionally  that  the  restraints  thrown  about  young 
hearts  over  here  are  a  help  to  the  tender  passion  rather 
than  a  hindrance;  for  is  there  not  a  proverb  about  dis- 
tance lending  a  charm,  and  another  one  about  famil- 
iarity breeding  contempt?  As  to  money  being  a  hin- 
drance to  affection,  few  will  suppose  that  a  charming 
girl  could  be  any  less  lovable  simply  because  she  was 
rich ;  or  that,  in  a  game  of  hearts,  a  good-sized  bank- 
account  would  be  any  disadvantage  to  a  decent  man. 
Yes,  undoubtedly,  there  are  love-matches  in  France; 
and  it  is  equally  beyond  question  that  many  marriages 
here  turn  out  happily  enough.  It  can  hardly  be  said, 
however,  that  the  customs  in  vogue  are  favorable  to 
such  results;  and  one  would  have  to  be  very  blind,  or 
else  very  kind,  if  he  failed  to  conclude  otherwise,  after 
studying  the  matter,  than  that  such  results  are  far  from 
being  the  invariable  rule. 


MARRIAGE  CUSTOMS.  169 

The  only  wedding  ceremony  recognized  by  French 
law  is  that  performed  by  the  civil  authorities.  In  Paris 
the  knot  is  tied  at  the  mayoral  office  of  one  of  the 
twenty  arrondissements.  Due  notice  must  be  given, 
and  no  end  of  legal  formalities  must  be  complied  with ; 
but  the  marriage  itself  is  soon  over — that  is,  the  legal 
part  of  it ;  for  the  mayor,  or  his  assistant,  after  satisfy- 
ing himself  that  all  parties  are  agreed,  simply  reads  to 
them,  from  a  Government  book,  a  definition  of  their 
mutual  rights  and  duties,  and  then  tells  them  that  they 
twain  are  one.  In  fact,  this  part  of  the  business  is  done 
up  in  much  the  same  style  in  which  our  American 
justices  of  the  peace  dispose  of  such  cases.  But  usually, 
of  course,  there  is  a  religious  ceremony,  and  that  takes 
longer.  Those  who  have  n't  much  time  to  spare  go  to 
Church  directly  from  the  mayor's  office;  but  in  other 
circles  the  fashion  is  to  climb  the  ladder  of  domestic 
bliss  by  easy  stages — the  legal  wedding  one  day,  and  the 
religious  ceremony  a  day  or  two  afterwards. 

A  distinct  peculiarity  of  the  invitations  sent  out  to 
those  whose  presence  is  desired  at  French  weddings  is, 
that  they  are  issued  in  the  names  of  the  parents  on  both 
sides,  instead  of  by  those  of  the  bride  only ;  and  still 
another  peculiarity  is,  that  the  wedding  ceremony  is  al- 
ways signalized  by  a  collection  for  the  poor.  The  basket 
is  invariably  passed,  even  at  the  mayoral  office;  and  at 
church  the  function  is  quite  an  elaborate  one.  Usu- 
ally it  is  the  bridesmaids  who  attend  to  it.  In  antici- 


170  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

pation  of  this  service,  they  provide  themselves  with 
dainty  silk  bags,  a  perfect  match  for  the  dresses  they 
wear;  and,  of  course,  their  passage  through  the  aisles 
affords  a  rare  chance — such  as  no  French  girl  could  re- 
gard with  indifference — to  exhibit  for  a  time,  in  the 
best  possible  light,  their  charming  toilets.  After  all, 
though,  the  most  wonderful  things  about  French  mar- 
riages  are  the  laws  which  govern  them,  and  which  seem 
really,  in  their  complicated  and  oppressive  requirements, 
to  be  framed  less  with  the  object  of  bringing  weddings 
to  pass  in  a  legal  manner  than  for  the  purpose  of  pre- 
venting them.  But  these  have  been  described  else- 
where. 


XVII. 

MATTERS  OF  TASTE. 

r  I  ^HERE  is  one  respect  in  which  the  French  have 
-A-  conquered  the  world.  Magazine-writers  may  spec- 
ulate as  they  please  as  to  which  of  the  modern  lan- 
guages is  likely  to  become  universal,  but  at  present  it 
is  beyond  dispute  that  the  universal  language  of  the 
kitchen  and  the  menu  is  the  French  language.  And 
really,  with  diplomacy  and  the  stomach  under  their  con- 
trol, how  selfish  it  seems  in  this  people  to  begrudge  the 
retention  by  a  neighboring  nation  of  a  couple  of  their 
provinces !  Especially  so  when  they  reflect  how  back- 
ward that  nation  is  in  those  arts  of  the  cuisine  in  which 
they  themselves  have  so  long  been  supreme. 

One  naturally  expects  that  those  who  prescribe  the 
menu  for  so  many  other  tables,  will  not  be  neglectful 
of  their  own,  and  that  such  a  people,  being  unrivaled 
adepts  in  cooking,  are  not  unlikely  to  be  over-indulgent 
toward  themselves  in  the  matter  of  eating.  This  was  the 
writer's  expectation ;  and  his  experiences  and  observa- 
tions in  France  have  not  only  justified  it,  but  have  re- 
vealed a  picture  of  gastronomic  predilection  which  ex- 
ceeds even  that  which  his  fancy  had  previously  painted 
for  him.  It  must  surely  be  that  the  French,  far  from 

merely  eating  to  live,  are  a  people  who  afford  the  best 

171 


172  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

modern  example  of  what  it  means  to  live  merely  for 
the  sake  of  eating.  The  way  they  begin  in  the  morn- 
ing is  no  criterion  whatever  of  how  they  will  finish  up 
at  night.  They  treat  the  table  in  the  early  hours  of 
the  day  much  as  a  cat  treats  a  new  conquest  from  the 
kingdom  of  mousedom.  They  are  sure  of  it  for  final 
indulgence,  and  hence  they  begin  by  affecting  toward  it 
a  sort  of  disdain.  For  the  first  breakfast,  coffee  and 
rolls  will  suffice.  This  is  the  play  to  which  the  mouse 
is  treated  as  a  preliminary  to  the  more  tragical  per- 
formance. It  is  one  of  the  deceiving  ways  these  French 
have,  by  which  the  visitor,  if  he  judged  too  hastily, 
might  be  seriously  misled  in  regard  to  them. 

Another  deceiving  thing  about  the  French  treatment 
of  the  table  is  the  rarity  of  their  formal  approaches  to 
it,  and  the  long  waits  between  times.  In  England  you 
can  be  quite  sure  of  four  meals  a  day,  and  in  Germany 
you  will  be  lucky  to  get  off  with  less  than  five  or  six; 
whereas,  in  France,  the  daily  assaults  of  a  formal  kind 
number  only  two — the  dejeuner,  or  second  breakfast, 
which  occurs  at  twelve  or  one,  and  the  dinner  to  which 
you  sit  down  in  state  at  six  or  seven.  Of  course,  you 
will  have  begun  the  day  with  the  inevitable  coffee,  and 
may  have  had  tea — d  TAnglalne — in  the  afternoon. 
But  what  you  get  on  these  occasions  will  not  inconven- 
ience you  in  the  least,  and  your  serious  dependence  will 
be  upon  the  two  meals  mentioned  above.  And  what 
feasts  these  will  be!  For  the  variety  afforded,  and  for 


MATTERS  OF  TASTE.  173 

the  time  consumed  in  doing  justice  to  them,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  the  mystery  attaching  to  some  of  the  dishes,  the 
visitor  will  never  have  known  the  like  before,  unless, 
perchance,  it  shall  have  happened  that  he  has  been  in 
France  before.  As  to  the  French  themselves,  the 
amount  of  execution  they  manage  to  do  at  these  two 
formal  assaults  upon  the  diniug-table  is  almost  incred- 
ible. As  regards  the  upper  and  middle  classes,  the 
richly-cooked  meat  they  dispose  of  is  far  in  excess  of 
the  daily  consumption  by  the  same  classes  in  America; 
and  that  means  that  England  and  Germany  are  so  far 
behind  as  to  be  out  of  the  race  altogether. 

Apropos  of  this,  a  very  discriminating  writer,  and 
one  who  is  inclined  to  extenuate  French  foibles  rather 
than  to  set  down  aught  in  malice,  has  said : 

"English  writers  are  often  on  the  lookout  for  sub- 
jects of  accusation  against  the  French,  and  they  gen- 
erally hit  upon  immorality.  May  I  give  them  a  hint 
that  may  be  of  use,  at  least,  in  affording  the  refresh- 
ment of  change?  Why  do  they  not  accuse  the  French 
of  gorraandism?  There  are  a  hundred  proofs  of  that 
vice  for  one  of  the  other.  It  is  visible  everywhere  in 
France,  and  in  some  parts  of  the  country  it  predom- 
inates over  all  other  pleasures  of  life.  Most  well-to-do 
French  people,  who  live  in  the  rural  districts  and  are 
excessively  dull,  find  a  solace  and  an  interest  twice  a 
day  in  the  prolonged  enjoyments  of  the  table.  There 
is  no  country  in  the  world  where  so  much  thought  and 


174  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

care,  and  so  much  intelligence,  are  devoted  to  feeding 
as  in  France." 

All  this  we  fully  indorse,  barring,  perhaps,  that  al- 
lusion in  the  paragraph  which  seems  to  discredit  the 
popular  estimate  of  French  immorality.  We  sympa- 
thize, too,  with  the  general  conclusion  announced  by 
this  writer.  The  author  we  are  quoting  is  P.  G.  Ham- 
erton,  who  has  written  an  able  work  on  "French  and 
English. "  Luxury  in  food  and  dress,  he  says,  are  two 
great  parent  evils  in  France;  and  he  does  not  hesitate 
to  contend  that  the  passion  for  good  living  is  one  of  the 
things  which  tends  to  keep  down  the  birth-rate  in 
France.  This,  because  by  adding  so  enormously  to 
household  expenses,  the  tendency  in  question  makes  it 
an  object  with  heads  of  families  not  to  have  too  many 
mouths  to  fill. 

To  illustrate  the  playful,  mincing  way  in  which  the 
French  begin  their  daily  exercises  in  gastronomy,  in 
contrast  with  the  way  in  which  they  continue  and  end 
them,  the  old  figure  of  the  cat  and  the  mouse  was  em- 
ployed. This  figure  we  have  a  special  reason  for  recall- 
ing. Besides  illustrating  how  the  French  eat,  it  is  not 
without  its  suggestiveness  as  to  ivhat  they  eat.  Mice  ?  No ; 
not  that  we  are  aware  of.  But,  unless  they  are  shamefully 
belied,  they  serve  up  some  dishes  compared  to  which 
mice — pickled,  stewed,  or  done  up  in  hash — would  be 
an  appetizing  dainty.  This  reminds  us  of  another  of 
the  deceiving  ways  of  the  French — that  of  cooking 


MATTERS  OF  TASTE.  175 

things  in  such  an  artful  manner  as  completely  to  dis- 
guise them. 

"Your  French  chef"  it  has  been  well  said,  "will 
take  a  piece  of  old  horse  or  fusty  beef,  and  make  a 
ragout  that  will  cause  you  to  smack  your  lips  and  cry 
for  more.  He  will  so  dress  you  a  stale  fish  that  you 
shall  imagine  you  are  eating  the  most  delicious  plat. 
He  will  give  you  stewed  goat  so  disguised  that  he  might 
safely  wager  his  head  to  yours  that  you  would  not  tell 
the  dish  from  jugged  hare.  He  will  give  you  tripe,  and 
make  you  believe  that  you  are  eating  fish;  and  fish, 
and  you  shall  think  you  are  partaking  of  game."  But 
it  was  neither  fish  nor  game  of  which  Mrs.  Fred  Burn- 
aby  and  her  companion  found  themselves  partaking; 
and  the  disguise,  moreover,  was  so  incomplete,  for  a 
wonder,  that  these  happy  Englishwomen  were  able  to 
penetrate  it.  The  lady  first  mentioned  vouches  for  this 
instance  in  her  book,  "The  High  Alps  in  Winter." 
She  and  her  friend  were  dining  at  a  French  hotel. 
Suddenly  the  companion  dropped  her  knife  and  fork, 
and  exclaimed:  "I  know  what  this  dish  is — it  is  slugs!" 
And  slugs  it  was,  as  the  two  ladies  fully  convinced 
themselves,  both  by  further  scrutiny  and  by  subsequent 
inquiry. 

It  must  not  be  thought,  however,  that  such  dishes 
as  these  form  the  staples  of  French  eating,  or  that  they 
are  indulged  in  to  any  considerable  extent.  They  are 
rather  the  dainties  of  the  French  menu,  which  you  would 


176  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

scarcely  get  excepting  in  the  highest  circles,  and  there 
only  as  an  occasional  relish.  The  staples,  in  good  so- 
ciety, are  good  meat  and  good  potatoes — cooked,  how- 
ever, in  all  conceivable  ways,  and  in  some  ways  which, 
to  the  ordinary  mind,  must  be  antecedently  inconceiv- 
able. As  to  workmen  and  those  still  poorer,  such  classes 
live  in  France  as  they  do  elsewhere ;  that  is,  they  eat 
what  they  can  get,  and  it  goes  without  saying  that  their 
principal  reliance  is  that  catch-all  of  the  French  kitchen — 
the  soup-bowl. 

From  French  tastes  in  eating  we  pass,  by  a  natural 
transition,  to  French  habits  in  drinking.  Public  drink- 
ing in  France  is  very  public  indeed.  The  drinking- 
places  stretch  so  far  across  the  sidewalks  as  to  be  almost 
as  much  out  of  doors  as  in.  There  is  hardly  anything 
the  average  Frenchman  enjoys  so  much  as  to  sit  with  a 
boon  companion  in  front  of  a  Parisian  cafe,  and  thus, 
as  he  watches  the  crowd  go  by,  put  in  public  evidence 
his  bibulous  propensities.  We  have  mentioned  the  cafe 
because  it  is  the  best  representative  of  its  class;  but 
the  drinking-places  of  France  have  a  variety  of  names. 
There  is  the  buvette,  the  cabaret,  the  guingette,  the 
estaminet,  the  brasserie,  and  no  doubt  others  whose 
names  we  have  yet  to  learn.  It  is  said  that  the  aver- 
age of  such  places,  for  the  whole  country,  is  one  to 
every  eighty-eight  inhabitants.  Not  much  danger  of 
anybody  going  thirsty. 

The  chief  indulgence  is  in  wine,  which  is  very  cheap 


MATTERS  OF  TASTE.  177 

even  yet,  though  not  so  much  so  as  formerly,  and 
which  must  also  be  decidedly  weak,  judging  from  the 
quantity  people  can  consume  without  showing  the  effects 
of  it.  For  the  average  Frenchman,  in  good  circum- 
stances, the  consumption  per  day  is  about  .two  bottles ; 
and  many,  as  night  draws  on,  take  in  addition  to  this 
a  considerable  quantity  of  stronger  stimulants.  For  the 
average  woman,  in  the  same  situation  in  life,  the  daily 
consumption  is  less.  We  have  seen  it  seriously  stated 
that  those  ladies  who  are  especially  moderate  in  their 
indulgence,  confine  themselves  to  half  a  bottle  of  red 
wine  at  each  of  the  two  principal  meals.  But  the  same 
writer  assures  us  that,  during  years  of  observation,  he 
has  never  seen  an  intoxicated  woman  in  this  country; 
and  it  is  the  universal  testimony,  both  of  the  French 
themselves  and  of  foreign  visitors,  that  French  women, 
while  they  are  rarely  total  abstainers,  are  still  almost 
entirely  free  from  the  vice  of  drunkenness.  In  this 
respect,  the  lower  classes  of  French  femininity  afford  a 
contrast  to  the  same  classes  in  England  which  can  only 
be  appreciated  fully  by  those  who  have  seen  it  for 
themselves.  . 

France  has  always  been  regarded  as  the  country 
par  excellence  of  moderate  drinking;  but  in  the  book 
previously  quoted  from,  Mr.  Hamerton  speaks  of  it  as 
a  country  where  moderate  drinking  is  carried  on  to  an 
extent  which  makes  it  really  immoderate.  We  like  to 

quote  this  author  because,  though  writing  for  the  Eng- 

12 


178  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE 

lish,  he  speaks  always  with  marked  fairness,  and,  if  any- 
thing, shows  a  bias  in  favor  of  the  French. 

"Men  are  called  moderate  drinkers,"  he  says,  "so 
long  as  they  do  not  show  any  outward  sign  of  being 
'  the  worse  for  liquor.'  But  there  is  an  education  of 
the  body  by  which  it  may  be  made  to  absorb  great 
quantities  of  alcoholic  stimulants  without  exhibiting 
anything  in  the  nature  of  drunkenness.  In  France  it 
is  considered  shameful  and  disgusting  to  be  drunk ;  but 
no  blame  is  attached  to  the  utmost  indulgence  in  drink- 
ing so  long  as  it  keeps  on  the  safe  ?ide.  This  leads  to 
that  artful  kind  of  drinking  which  is  well  known  to  all 
French  physicians,  and  which  produces,  in  the  long  run, 
that  peculiar  state  of  body  which  they  call  '  I'alcoolisme 
des  gens  du  monde.'  A  peasant  may  get  perfectly  drunk 
once  a  month,  and  yet  be  a  very  small  consumer  of 
alcohol;  a  gentleman,  without  ever  being  even  tipsy, 
may  consume  five  times  as  much  alcohol  as  the  peasant." 

We  have  spoken  of  the  French  as  inclining  chiefly, 
in  their  bibulous  propensities,  toward  the  wine-bottle. 
This  they  do,  though  latterly  they  have  developed  quite 
a  liking  for  the  beer-keg;  and,  what  is  still  more  un- 
fortunate, for  the  whisky-jug  and  the  brandy-flask.  In 
some  districts  these  tendencies  are  decidedly  striking. 
Statistics  show  that  the  largest  consumers  of  beer  are  in 
the  towns  of  Lille,  Roubaix,  Tourcoing,  St.  Quentin, 
and  Amiens,  where  the  yearly  average  consumption 
ranges  from  forty-five  to  sixty-seven  gallons  per  head 


MATTERS  OF  TASTE.  179 

of  the  population ;  whereas,  in  Paris,  the  average  is  less 
than  three  gallons  per  head.  The  consumption  of  al- 
cohol is  greatest  in  Normandy  and  Brittany,  attaining 
nearly  four  gallons  per  head  in  Rouen,  Havre,  and 
Caen ;  while  it  is  over  two  and  a  half  gallons  per  head 
at  Brest  (Brittany),  and  nearly  two  gallons  per  head  in 
Paris. 

One  reason  why  wine  is  less  indulged  in  than  for- 
merly is  because,  since  the  visitation  of  phylloxera,  it 
has  increased  somewhat  in  price,  besides  having  deteri- 
orated in  quality.  The  yield  even  now,  after  many 
years  of  partial  recovery,  is  less  than  it  used  to  be  by 
fifty  per  cent.  France  does  not  produce  at  present 
nearly  enough  wine  for  her  own  consumption,  though 
the  yield  last  year  approximated  to  six  hundred  and 
sixty  million  gallons.  Those  who  have  thought  that  she 
supplied  the  world  with  this  liquid,  will  be  surprised  to 
read  that  her  imports  for  eleven  months  of  1892  were 
two  hundred  and  four  million  gallons,  and  her  exports 
only  thirty-nine  millions. 

From  these  figures  it  will  be  seen  that  the  French 
still  drink  wine  in  anything  but  moderation.  To  show, 
however,  how  the  increase  in  the  price  of  this  beverage 
has  affected  their  habits  as  regards  stronger  liquids,  we 
quote  again  from  P.  G.  Hamerton,  who  says:  "The 
effect  of  dear  wine  in  France  has  not  been  favorable  to 
temperance,  but  the  contrary,  by  increasing  the  con- 
sumption of  poisonous  spirituous  liquors.  That  has  now 


180  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

reached  such  a  pitch  in  the  working-classes  that  drunk- 
enness of  the  most  dangerous  kind — the  kind  unknown 
in  wine  countries — is  established  amongst  them  as  it  is 
in  the  lower  orders  of  London  or  Glasgow.  In  fact, 
the  worst  form  of  Scotch  dram-drinking  is  common  in 
the  great  French  cities." 

The  same  observer  feels  quite  sure  that  while  the 
drinking  habits  of  the  English  and  Scotch  are  improv- 
ing, those  of  the  French  are,  on  the  whole,  getting 
worse ;  and  statistics  seem  to  prove  this.  As  to  drunk- 
enness, one  sees  comparatively  few  cases  on  the  streets, 
excepting  in  the  very  lowest  districts;  but  the  police 
courts  tell  a  tale  the  significance  of  which  is  as  deplor- 
able as  it  is  unmistakable.  It  was  not  until  some  time 
in  the  seventies  that  the  nation  felt  called  upon  to  take 
judicial  notice  of  this  offense.  When  one  observes,  how- 
ever, in  the  police  statistics  for  a  recent  four  years,  that 
the  annual  average  of  arrests  for  drunkenness  in  the 
whole  country  amounted  to  about  one  hundred  and  nine- 
teen thousand,  a  glimpse  is  afforded  of  the  trend  of 
things  in  France  which  is  anything  but  pleasant,  and 
which  promises  sadly  for  the  future. 

The  prevalence  in  France  of  the  absinthe  habit,  and 
of  the  liking  for  such  decoctions  as  eau  de  vie — drinks 
which  are  destructive  to  the  nervous  system,  and  which 
lead  often  to  paralysis  and  madness — this  we  have  found 
to  be  not  only  as  general  as  we  had  been  led  to  expect, 
but  even  more  so.  You  can  recognize  absinthe  by  its 


MATTERS  OF  TASTE.  181 

whitish  and  foamy  appearance,  and  the  frequency  with 
which  we  have  observed  it  in  front  of  young  men  at 
the  outer  tables  of  French  cafes  has  surprised  and 
shocked  us.  Akin  to  this  is  the  French  habit  of  grad- 
ing their  drinks  according  to  strength  and  quality,  with 
special  reference  to  the  time  of  day.  Upon  this  habit, 
Mr.  Hamerton,  who  is  by  no  means  an  apostle  of  tem- 
perance as  we  understand  it,  makes  the  following  ob- 
eervations : 

"The  most  insidious  form  of  French  drinking  is  that 
which  provides  a  varied  succession  of  stimulants,  in 
methodical  order,  with  not  very  long  intervals — an  ar- 
rangement quite  as  regular  as  that  of  prayers  in  a  mo- 
nastic establishment.  It  is,  in  short,  a  systematic  organ- 
ization of  Bacchus  worship,  combining  the  most  faithful 
observances  with  a  decent  external  prudence.  There  is 
something  extremely  French  in  this;  for  of  all  peoples 
the  French  are  the  most  ingenious  in  making  programs 
of  successive  pleasures,  to  come  each  in  its  due  time." 

We  have  read  several  authorities  on  the  drinking 
habits  of  the  French,  and  most  of  these  have  given 
what  they  are  pleased  to  call  a  fair  view  of  the  temper- 
ance side  of  the  question.  These  writers,  however,  have 
treated  of  temperance  as  if  it  meant  nothing  more  than 
moderation.  There  are  many  in  France,  they  tell  us, 
who  drink  wine  only  with  their  meals,  and  many  who 
seldom,  or  never,  visit  a  public  drinking-place.  These 
are  presented  to  us  as  the  temperance  folk  of  this  na- 


182  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

tion,  and  one  might  easily  suppose  that  there  were  no 
others  holding  up  this  banner.  But  the  writer  has 
made  a  gratifying  discovery.  He  has  found  in  France 
a  real  temperance  element — an  organization  of  total 
abstainers.  Its  headquarters  are  in  Paris.  Its  hon- 
orary president  is  Leon  Say,  a  senator  and  distinguished 
economist;  its  acting  president,  Pasteur  Momiier,  who 
is  referred  to  elsewhere  as  a  leading  worker  in  behalf  of 
Paris  students. 

Here  is  real  hope,  but  how  small  and  feeble  its  be- 
ginnings! The  Society  of  the  Blue  Cross,  as  it  is  called, 
enrolls  throughout  all  France  from  1,500  to  2,000  ad- 
herents. In  gathering  these  it  has  been  at  work  since 
1885.  In  Paris  it  has  a  membership  of  500.  These 
are  the  statistics,  and,  standing  alone,  they  are  some- 
what disheartening.  When,  however,  you  meet  the 
workers,  and  learn  a  little  of  their  methods  and  of  the 
present  status  of  things,  you  feel  differently.  In  Paris 
the  work  is  carried  on  by  ten  sections.  In  each  section 
a  representative  meeting  is  held  monthly,  at  each  of 
which  from  six  to  fifteen  persons  take  the  pledge. 
Half  of  the  500  in  Paris  have  been  enrolled  during  the 
present  year.  That  shows  a  rapidly  growing  interest. 
It  indicates  present-day  vitality;  and  the  round  one 
hundred  of  accessions,  within  the  same  length  of  time, 
at  Rouen,  is  another  indication  of  the  same  kind.  Other 
provincial  towns  which  are  making  good  reports  are 
Lyons  and  Marseilles,  though  the  greatest  progress  of 


MATTERS  OF  TASTE.  183 

all  is  being  made  among  workmen  in  Pays  de  Mont- 
beliard.  Thus  the  cause  of  temperance  is  making  some 
progress  even  in  France;  and  we  can  only  wish,  scarcely 
daring  to  expect,  that  the  good  work  of  the  Blue  Cross, 
of  the  World's  Woman's  Christian  Temperance  Union, 
and  of  any  other  struggling  organizations  which  have  a 
foothold  there,  may  increase  and  abound  in  that  country 
in  the  same  way  in  which  such  work  has  long  done  in 
our  own  Nation,  and  is  now  doing  in  Great  Britain. 


XVIII. 

CHURCH  AND  STATE. 

IN  the  contest  for  supremacy  between  the  Catholic- 
Church  and  the  French  Government,  the  event  of 
greatest  importance  within  recent  years  was  the  Encyc- 
lical of  Pope  Leo  XIII,  which  summoned  Catholics, 
both  lay  and  clerical,  to  a  cordial  support  of  the  Re- 
public. Previously  the  Church,  as  every  one  could  see, 
was  a  decided  enemy  of  the  Republic.  Its  hierarchy, 
its  religious  communities,  even  its  priesthood — with  rare 
exceptions — were  opposed  to  existing  forms,  and  either 
openly  or  secretly  were  planning  and  praying  for  their 
overthrow.  The  alleged  cause  of  this  hostility  to  the 
Government  on  the  part  of  the  Church  was  the  antip- 
athy which  the  Government  had  shown  to  the  aims  and 
methods  of  Roman  Catholicism.  The  Government, 
however,  could  just  as  reasonably  allege  a  similar  ex- 
cuse for  its  own  attitude,  and,  as  it  appears  to  us,  had 
far  more  facts  at  hand  to  justify  such  an  excuse;  for 
the  aggressors  in  this  warfare  were  not  the  upholders  of 
republicanism,  but  the  agents  of  Romanism.  From  the 
moment  of  its  establishment  it  was  evident  to  all  that 
the  Republic  could  expect  no  support  from  the  Church; 
and  what  was  thus  a  foregone  certainty,  thoroughly 

understood  by  all  parties  in  1872,  has  been  abundantly 
184 


CHURCH  AND  STATE.  185 

corroborated  by  subsequent  events.  The  only  variation 
has  been  toward  increased  bitterness.  This  Church  has 
not  been  content  to  fare  as  other  denominations  have 
done.  It  has  demanded  ascendency;  and  because  the 
Republic  would  not  grant  this,  but  was  determined  that 
all  religions  should  be  on  an  equal  footing,  and  that 
none  of  them  should  be  used  for  political  purposes  to 
the  injury  of  the  State,  the  Catholic  Church  in  France 
had  remained  the  friend  of  monarchy  and  the  foe  of 
republicanism,  tolerating  the  latter  only  as  an  unavoid- 
able evil,  and  always  hoping — to  put  the  case  as  mildly 
as  possible — for  the  re-establishment  of  the  former,  up 
to  the  very  moment  when,  like  a  herald  of  peace  out 
of  a  stormy  sky,  Pope  Leo's  famous  Encyclical  was  put 
forth. 

In  the  year  or  more  which  has  elapsed  since  that 
occurrence  there  has  been  a  change.  The  pope's  action 
has  mollified,  in  some  measure,  both  parties  to  this  con- 
troversy. It  was  only  natural  that  the  Government 
should  be  pleased,  for  the  French  Republic  is  none  too 
strong.  Certainly  it  is  not  strong  enough  to  look  with 
indifference  upon  the  attitude  toward  it  of  a  Church 
which  embraces  nominally  all  but  a  small  minority  of 
its  citizens.  Not  only  is  the  Government  pleased,  but 
in  various  ways — notably  by  friendly  actions  toward  the 
pope  on  the  part  of  M.  Carnot — it  has  given  expression 
to  its  pleasure.  It  is  easy  to  discover,  also,  that  a  grad- 
ual change  is  occurring  in  the  Church.  It  is  no  doubt 


186  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

true  that  the  hierarchy  of  France,  supported  by  titled 
laymen,  have  sought  by  protests  and  arguments  to  pro- 
duce at  Rome  a  recantation  of  the  late  edict.  But 
where  popes  are  concerned  it  is  usually  the  other  fellows 
who  have  to  do  the  recanting,  and  so,  evidently,  it  will 
have  to  be  in  the  present  instance;  for  his  holiness 
stands  so  firmly  by  his  guns  that  he  can  not  be  intim- 
idated by  even  the  Panama  disclosures — his  reply  to 
those  who  have  urged  these  as  a  pretext  for  the  with- 
drawal of  his  support  being,  "That  the  scandals  in 
France  condemn  the  guilty  persons  alone,  and  not  the 
Republic;"  and  that,  furthermore,  "it  ought  to  be  the 
mission  of  French  Catholics,  for  the  welfare  of  France 
and  of  religion,  to  get  rid  of  all  the  public  men  who 
have  had  a  share  in  these  scandals." 

Perhaps,  if  the  truth  were  known,  the  French  Gov- 
ernment is  more  pleased  with  the  altered  attitude  of 
Rome  than  French  Catholics  are.  The  change  in  the 
Church  is  very  slight  so  far.  Such  leaven  will  make 
its  way  in  so  obstinate  a  lump  very  slowly.  Even  a 
papal  encyclical  can  not  work  a  miracle.  The  element 
to  be  chiefly  reckoned  with  is  the  aristocracy.  These 
are  essentially  Royalists  almost  to  a  man,  and  they  are 
attached  with  equal  unanimity  and  heartiness  to  the 
Catholic  Church.  It  is  hardly  conceivable  that  a  papal 
edict  will  transform  into  partisans  of  the  Republic  such 
stanch  supporters  of  monarchy  as  the  French  nobility 
have  always  been;  and  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether 


CHURCH  AND  STATE.  187 

their  influence,  with  other  causes  to  help  it,  may  not 
be  more  potent  in  the  long  run  than  that  of  Rome 
itself. 

As  to  the  motives  of  Pope  Leo,  we  can  only  specu- 
late upon  them.  It  is  thought  in  Italy  that  his  course 
in  this  matter  is  a  bid  for  French  help  in  recovering 
his  long  lost  and  still  lamented  temporal  power.  In 
France  the  fear  of  Protestants  is  that  he  is  seeking  the 
reconciliation  of  the  Church  to  the  Republic  for  the 
final  object  of  converting  the  Republic  to  ihe  Church. 
Others,  however,  hold  to  the  milder  view  that  he  wishes 
to  free  the  Church  from  the  odium  of  political  con- 
spiracy, and  would  place  her  in  a  position  of  friendli- 
ness toward  the  Government  in  order  that  she  may  the 
better  carry  on  her  work,  and  may  be  more  likely  than 
she  has  heretofore  been  to  have  a  fair  share  in  any 
favors  the  Government  may  have  to  disburse.  Accept- 
ing as  correct  the  last  of  these  views,  it  is  impossible  to 
see  in  the  pontiff's  action  anything  inimical  to  good 
sense,  or  contrary  to  good  morals;  for,  as  things  have 
gone  in  France  these  twenty  years  past,  the  Catholic 
Church  has  been  at  a  decided  disadvantage  in  that 
country ;  so  much  so  that,  in  spite  of  her  vast  prepon- 
derance socially  and  numerically,  she  has  not  wielded  as 
much  power  in  governmental  affairs  as  either  Protest- 
ants or  Freethinkers  have  done. 

To  admit  this  is  a  different  thing  altogether  from 
conceding  that  the  French  Republic  has  gone  to  the 


188  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

length  of  persecuting  this  Church.  Such  a  charge  we 
hold  to  be  purely  gratuitous.  Whatever  martyrdom 
the  Catholics  have  suffered  has  been  voluntary  on  their 
part.  Not  only  so,  but  it  is  largely  a  matter  of  the 
imagination.  In  compelling  the  Jesuits  to  disband,  the 
present  Government  has  only  done  what  had  been  pre- 
viously found  necessary  by  even  the  Bourbons;  and,  in 
fact,  the  measure  of  1880  was  less  severe  than  that  of 
1762.  It  was  during  the  fierce  passions  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, not  under  the  mild  sway  of  the  Third  Republic, 
that  Church  lands  were  sold  for  the  benefit  of  the  State. 
The  Republic,  on  the  contrary,  has  sought,  according  to 
Bonaparte's  plan,  to  make  amends  for  this  act  of  pil- 
lage by  continuing  regularly  its  annual  grants  to  the 
Catholic  clergy.  As  to  English  criticisms  upon  this 
subject,  the  point  is  well  made  by  Mr.  Hamertou,  in 
"French  and  English,"  that  in  confiscating  property 
which  belonged  to  the  Church  these  two  countries  are 
alike — the  only  difference  being  that  England  gave 
nothing  to  the  Catholics  in  return ;  whereas  France 
guaranteed  to  them,  and  has  continued  to  pay,  a  large 
annual  interest  on  what  was  taken. 

Not  a  few  of  the  acts  of  hostility  with  which  the 
French  Government  is  charged  are  in  reality  municipal 
measures.  It  was  Paris,  through  its  radical  Council — 
not  the  Republic — which  tore  the  crosses  from  the  gates 
of  public  cemeteries  in  that  city;  and  to  the  same  in- 
itiative, more  than  to  any  other,  is  due  the  exclusion  of 


CHURCH  AND  STATE.  189 

so  many  nuns  from  service  in  municipal  hospitals.  In 
calling  to  order  a  certain  class  of  unauthorized  religious 
brotherhoods,  the  Government  of  France  has  simply 
acted  in  self-defense.  It  became  convinced  that  they 
were  agencies  for  the  spread  of  sedition  against  its  own 
life;  that  they  were  drawing  off  from  the  tax-list  and 
from  army  service  more  men  and  more  money  than 
could  be  safely  spared ;  and,  what  was  still  worse,  that 
they  were  hoarding  wealth  to  be  used  as  occasion  of- 
fered in  pampering  Boulangist  demagogues,  and  fur- 
thering the  schemes  of  worthless  Royalists.  If  this 
conviction  was  a  mistaken  one,  why  did  not  these  orders 
take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  which  was  given 
them  to  prove  their  innocence?  In  other  words,  why 
did  they  not  apply  for  an  "authorization,"  and  demon- 
strate, if  they  could,  their  right  to  the  same  considera- 
tion which  was  accorded,  and  which  is  still  accorded,  to 
what  are  known  as  the  "authorized"  brotherhoods,  and 
to  the  numerous  retreats  throughout  France  into  which 
Catholic  women  retire?  Instead  of  this,  they  pose  be- 
fore the  world  as  martyrs.  In  reality  they  are  not 
killed  by  the  Government;  but  they  commit  suicide, 
and  thus  virtually  plead  guilty. 

Another  act  of  self-defense  to  which  the  Govern- 
ment has  been  driven  is  that  which,  after  a  certain 
date,  will  exclude  members  of  religious  orders  from 
serving  as  teachers  in  State  schools.  This  was  long  de- 
layed; and  the  reason  so  extreme  a  measure  was  finally 


190  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

passed  was  that  the  Catholic  Church,  and  especially  the 
religious  brotherhoods  of  that  Church,  were  the  avowed 
enemies  of  the  public-school  system.  They  were  notori- 
ously out  of  touch  with  what  the  Republic  held  to  be 
vital — namely,  liberty  of  conscience;  and  hence  could 
not  be  trusted  to  administer  fairly  a  scheme  of  educa- 
tion which  was  intended  to  maintain  that  liberty.  The 
Government  has  never  said  that  they  may  not  establish 
schools  of  their  own,  and  it  offers  no  interference  with 
what  they  may  choose  to  teach  in  such  schools.  They 
are  still  at  perfect  liberty  to  educate  their  own  clergy; 
and  if  they  were  able,  from  a  financial  point  of  view, 
they  might  maintain  parochial  schools  enough  for  the 
education  of  all  Catholic  children.  In  this  matter  they 
have  the  same  rights  which  all  others  enjoy  in  France. 
The  Republic,  however,  is  determined  that  they  shall 
not  control  its  State  schools,  nor  use  them  as  recruiting- 
offices  for  their  own  Church. 

It  would  seem,  in  one  view  of  the  case,  as  though  the 
charge  of  being  opposed  to  religion  were  the  last  which 
could  be  laid  with  truth  at  the  door  of  the  Republic  of 
France;  for  it  supports,  by  large  annual  grants,  no  less 
than  four  religions.  It  is  decidedly  impartial  in  this 
matter,  and  somewhat  inconsistent  perhaps;  for,  as  a 
critical  writer  points  out,  it  pays  Catholics  for  affirming 
the  Real  Presence,  and  Protestants  for  denying  it; 
Christians  for  holding  that  Christ  is  God,  and  Jews  for 
scouting  this  doctrine;  while  in  Algeria  it  upholds  Mo- 


CHURCH  AND  STATE.  191 

hammedans  in  maintaining  that  the  representatives  of 
all  three  of  these  religions  are  infidels.  Besides  show- 
ing its  impartiality  in  this  way,  it  gives  further  proof 
of  it  by  holding  all  these  Churches  or  creeds  subject  to 
the  same  general  laws. 

The  trusteeship  of  Church  property  rests  in  the 
Central  Government;  and  on  the  Local  Board,  which 
controls  it,  the  mayor  sits  side  by  side  with  the  priest 
or  pastor,  both  being  members  ex  officio.  Changes  in 
discipline  are  subject  to  governmental  sanction ;  as  also, 
in  all  the  Churches,  are  the  appointment  and  removal  of 
most  of  the  ministers.  In  addition  to  all  this,  situations 
are  possible  in  which  the  affairs  of  State-aided  Churches 
may  be  brought  for  adjustment  before  a  special  Court  of 
Appeal ;  and,  what  is  still  more,  the  Republic  can  at  any 
time,  by  a  simple  majority  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies, 
cut  off  supplies.  That  is,  it  could  refuse  to  vote  the 
annual  budget  from  which  the  clergy  of  these  State- 
aided  religions  derive  most  of  their  support.  These  are 
some  of  the  means  by  which  the  Republic  of  France,  in 
return  for  the  help  it  gives  to  these  Churches,  exercises 
supervision  and  discipline  over  them. 

At  a  recent  period  the  Catholics  of  France  were  re- 
turned at  980  per  1,000  of  the  population,  and  the 
Protestants  at  16  per  1,000;  the  remainder  being  dis- 
tributed amongst  various  other  beliefs.  The  annual 
budget  for  the  support  of  Catholic  worship  amounts  to 
from  $8,000,000  to  $10,000,000,  while  the  Protestants 


192  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

receive  annually  about  8350,000,  the  Jews  about  $40,- 
000,  and  the  Mohammedans  about  850,000.  It  has 
often  surprised  us  that  a  nation  so  predominantly  Cath- 
olic as  France  could  oppose  so  successfully  the  encroach- 
ments of  that  Church;  and  especially  that,  while  ac- 
knowledging a  formal  adherence  to  it,  it  could  come,  as 
it  evidently  has  in  these  latter  days,  to  dislike  and  dis- 
trust it  so  thoroughly.  To  our  thought,  there  is  some- 
thing suggestive  in  such  a  situation,  and  the  implication 
it  conveys  is  not  a  flattering  one.  It  would  seem  to 
indicate  that  those  who  have  waited  upon  Catholic 
ministrations  have  not  been  favorably  impressed  by 
them,  and  that  the  Romish  system,  as  France  has  known 
it,  has  failed  to  inspire  popular  confidence. 

Not  only  so,  but  upon  the  testimony  of  competent 
judges,  this  Church  has  failed  sadly  as  a  religious  force. 
M.  Betham-Ed wards  says,  in  "  France  of  To-day :"  "  We 
can  not  shrink  from  a  conclusion  forced  upon  us  by  ac- 
cumulated experience.  The  only  spiritualizing  influence 
hitherto  within  the  peasant's  reach  has  failed  to  touch 
him.  We  gladly  acknowledge  his  high  qualities, 
probity,  thrift,  respect  for  authority,  self-denial.  For 
higher  things  we  must  not  always  look.  Yet  we  have 
here  the  offspring  of  that  Church  which  has  nowhere 
ruled  with  more  powerful  sway." 

In  a  critical  work  on  "France  as  it  Is,"  written  by 
two  Frenchmen — Andre  Lebon  and  Paul  Pelet — the 
question,  "Is  France  a  religious  country?"  is  answered 


CHURCH  AND  STATE.  193 

thus  :  "  It  is  very  difficult  to  give  a  positive  reply  to  this 
question.  Talk  with  individual  Frenchmen  of  any 
class,  and  we  shall  almost  always  find — with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  province  of  Brittany,  where  faith  is  strongly 
rooted — a  skepticism  readily  passing  into  mockery,  and 
bordering  on  indifference,  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
On  the  other  hand,  any  one  who  enters  a  church  or  re- 
ligious temple  at  the  hours  of  service  will  generally  find 
them  filled  with  worshipers.  Ask  a  peasant  his  feelings 
towards  his  priest,  and  he  will  show  a  certain  inveterate 
distrust  of  the  priestly  garb ;  but  the  same  peasant  will 
be  married  and  buried  by  the  Church,  and  will  have  his 
children  baptized  and  confirmed.  Finally,  a  general 
view  of  contemporary  French  history  will  show  that 
there  are  few  countries  where  the  struggle  between  the 
civil  power  and  religious  authority  has  been  more  con- 
stant; few  in  which — first  the  liberal,  then  the  demo- 
cratic, movement  has  had  a  more  anti-religious  tendency; 
few  where  greater  contradiction  is  to  be  met  with  be- 
tween the  external  habits  of  the  citizens  and  the  slow 
and  continuous  mental  cleavage  which  has  come  about 
between  them  and  the  Church.  This  complex  situation 
arises  from  the  fact  that  the  religious  question  has  been 
constantly  entangled  in  the  present  century  with  polit- 
ical questions,  and  that  most  civil  and  social  reforms 
have  been  carried  out  at  the  expense  and  despite  the  op- 
position of  the  Catholic  Church." 

13 


XIX. 
FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM. 

STATISTICS  show  that  in  round  numbers  the  Prot- 
V-J  estant  Churches  of  France  enroll  a  membership  of 
about  600,000,  and  that  about  500,000  of  these  are  em- 
braced in  the  old  Huguenot  or  Reformed  Church.  This, 
and  the  Lutheran  Church,  are  the  two  Protestant  bodies 
which  receive  aid,  and,  with  it,  more  or  less  of  super- 
vision and  moral  countenance,  from  the  State.  Other 
Protestant  sects,  however,  have  a  good  foothold  in  that 
country,  and  are  equally  free,  with  Reformers  and  Lu- 
therans, subject  to  the  general  law,  to  carry  on  their 
work  of  evangelism.  With  the  exception  of  the  greater 
influence  possessed  by  the  latter  in  consequence  of  its 
preponderating  numbers  and  superior  social  position, 
Protestantism  is  on  the  same  level  under  the  Republic 
as  Catholicism.  We  have  heard  of  a  cure  who  spoke 
condescendingly  to  a  Protestant  clergyman  of  "  the  tol- 
erance" manifested  toward  Protestantism.  But  the 
proud  and  truthful  retort  was:  "There  is  no  longer 
any  question  of  religious  tolerance  in  France ;  one  and 
all,  in  the  eyes  of  the  law,  stand  precisely  on  the  same 
footing."  Among  the  Protestant  agencies  which  manage 
to  get  along  very  well  without  aid  from  the  State  are 

the  Free  Church,  the  Baptists,  the  Wesleyans,  and  last, 
194 


r  FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM.  195 

though  by  no  means  least  as  an  evangelizing  force  among 
the  masses,  the  Me  All  Mission. 

The  influence  wielded  by  French  Protestantism  is 
largely  in  excess  of  its  numerical  strength.  It  is  not 
without  its  representatives  in  banking  circles,  and  in 
the  provinces  it  cuts  something  of  a  figure  in  the  high- 
est social  circles,  while  in  governmental  affairs  it  takes 
a  rank  which  is  surprising.  There  was  a  National  Cab- 
inet not  long  ago,  which  embraced  five  men  who  were 
nominally  Protestants.  M.  de  Freycinet,  who  took  the 
war-office  after  Boulanger,  the  first  civilian  who  ever 
occupied  this  post,  and  who  held  it  for  six  years,  is  of 
this  number,  and  his  wife,  we  are  told,  is  an  active  Protest- 
ant worker.  In  diplomacy  the  Protestants  lay  claim,  by 
family  descent,  to  M.  Waddington,  long  the  distingushed 
representative  of  France  at  the  Court  of  Great  Britain. 
Leon  Say,  a  distinguished  economist,  and  one  of  the 
most  influential  members  of  the  Chamber  of  Deputies, 
is  a  Protestant.  So  likewise  is  M.  Brisson,  who  has 
acted  with  so  much  spirit  as  chairman  of  the  Panama 
Commission  of  Inquiry.  To  these  must  be  added  the 
dean  of  the  Paris  Faculty  of  Letters,  Rabier,  Director 
of  Secondary  Instruction,  and  Monod,  Director  of  Assist- 
ance Publique ;  while  in  the  French  Institute,  the  Prot- 
estant names  of  Dumas,  Ph.  Berger,  and  Appell  stand 
out  to  greet  us.  These,  moreover,  are  but  a  few  of  the 
more  distinguished  in  this  honored  galaxy. 

As  to  the  relative  influence  of  Catholicism  and  Prot- 


196  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

estantism  in  political  circles,  an  American  priest,  who 
bad  been  two  years  in  Paris,  expressed  to  us  the  indig- 
nant conviction  that  the  latter  was  "a  thousand  times" 
more  potential  in  that  sphere  than  the  former.  This,  of 
course,  was  an  exaggeration,  though,  perhaps,  a  par- 
donable one.  Certain  it  is,  at  any  rate,  that  the  Prot- 
estants have  more  influence,  far  more,  than  the  Catho- 
lics have,  in  proportion  to  their  numbers.  At  Toulouse, 
some  time  ago,  M.  Carnot,  in  receiving  a  deputation  of 
Protestant  clergymen,  alluded,  we  are  told,  not  only  "  to 
the  respect  but  the  affection  "  with  which  their  Church 
was  regarded  by  the  Republic  ;  and,  assuming  this  affec- 
tion really  to  exist,  it  is  not  difficult  to  account  for  it ; 
for  Protestantism  has  never  asked  for  ascendency  or  for 
special  favors  of  any  kind.  It  has  sought  only  liberty 
and  equality,  and  the  Third  Republic  has  ample  reason 
for  both  respecting  and  loving  it,  in  the  simple  fact  that 
it  has  constantly  upheld  republican  institutions. 

By  a  Protestant  pastor  in  Paris  we  were  afforded  a 
view  of  a  French  map,  showing  the  location  of  Protest- 
ant churches  in  that  country.  From  this  it  became  dis- 
tressingly evident  that  there  are  immense  districts  in 
France  where  that  Church  has  no  representation.  Even 
the  birthplace  of  Calvin  is  suffering  from  a  deprivation 
of  this  kind.  When,  too,  we  observed  that  the  chief 
strength  of  Protestantism  is  in  the  neighborhood  of  cer- 
tain seaports,  and  in  territory  near  to  the  frontier,  we 
could  not  help  thinking  that  we  had  before  us  a  pa- 


FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM.  197 

thetic  object-lesson,  which  indicated  only  too  plainly  the 
checkered  and  bloody  history  of  French  Protestantism. 
What  this  means  is,  that  after  the  revocation  of  the 
Edict  of  Nantes,  those  who  remained  true  to  their  faith 
either  fled  the  country  or  migrated  to  places  from  which 
a  flight  on  short  notice  would  be  convenient.  Thus  it  is 
that  Protestants  are  found  in  greatest  number  even  to 
this  day  in  the  departments  of  Drome,  Doubs,  Deux- 
Sevres,  Ardeche,  Lozere,  and  Gard ;  and  to  give  an 
idea  how  they  stand  in  at  least  one  of  these  counties, 
we  quote  from  M.  Be tham-Ed wards,  in  "France  of 
To-day :" 

"The  department  of  the  Gard  offers  an  anomaly 
pleasing  to  English  observers  and  progressists  generally. 
Here,  and  here  alone  throughout  the  length  and  breadth 
of  France,  are  found  villages  without  a  Catholic  Church, 
villages  that  have  held  fast  to  Protestantism  and  the 
right  of  private  judgment  from  time  immemorial.  Nor 
is  it  among  the  meek  and  the  lowly  that  the  more  en- 
lightened doctrine  has  chiefly  prevailed. 

"In  higher  places  the  Protestant  element  is  over- 
whelming. Alike  moral  and  material,  spiritual  and  in- 
tellectual forces  are  here  arrayed  against  intolerance  and 
superstition.  Were  the  same  spectacle  witnessed  else- 
where, and  the  Gard  no  phenomenon  on  the  French 
map,  we  might  draw  good  augury  for  the  future.  Half 
a  dozen  departments  Protestant  to  the  core,  and  Boul- 
angisme  were  impossible,  Lourdes  a  survival  to  blush 


198  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

at,  the  cloistered  convent  out  of  date  as  an  auto-da-fe, 
France  saved  by  the  remnant.  AVe  must  be  thankful 
to  find  one  such  department  out  of  the  eighty-six. 

"That  this  tremendous  Protestant  supremacy  should 
excite  concern  and  disquietude  in  the  opposite  camp 
need  not  surprise  us.  A  Nimois  Catholic,  recently  writ- 
ing to  the  Ultramontane  organ,  L'Univers,  pointed  out 
that  the  three  senators  then  representing  the  Gard 
(1891)  were  all  Protestants.  At  the  general  elections  of 
1889,  out  of  six  Republican  candidates,  five  were  Prot- 
estants; of  the  six  deputies  who  sat  in  the  Chamber, 
five  were  Protestants,  the  sixth  being  a  Jew." 

With  reference  to  the  same  department,  a  corre- 
spondent of  the  London  Daily  News  says  : 

"The  County  Council  of  the  year  (1891)  is  made 
up  of  twenty-three  Protestants  and  seventeen  Catholics. 
The  seven  members  of  the  Board  of  Hospitals  at  Nimes 
are  all  Protestants ;  three  out  of  the  four  inspectors  of 
health  are  Protestants,  as  well  as  the  four  chairmen 
of  the  Councils  of  Hygiene  in  the  four  departmental 
districts.  Nine  out  of  the  twelve  head-mistresses  of  the 
public  schools  for  girls  belong  to  the  Reformed  faith ; 
the  Chamber  of  Commerce  numbers  eleven  Protestant 
members  out  of  twelve,  and  ninety-five  out  of  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  excisemen.  Twenty-nine  out  of  forty 
Juges  de  Paix  are  Protestants.  In  1889,  when  the 
Bishop  of  Nimes  died,  the  Government  appointed  a 
Protestant  notary  as  trustee  of  his  estate."  The  Daily 


FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM.  199 

News  correspondent,  here  quoted,  adds:  "The  Catholics 
denounce  this  as  intolerable  oppression.  But  the  truth 
is  that  the  Protestants  are,  as  a  rule,  highly  educated, 
whilst  the  Catholic  peasants  are  utterly  illiterate." 

This  represents  Protestantism  at  its  best.  We  must 
not  infer  that  there  are  many  other  counties,  or  even 
any,  which  could  make  at  present  so  gratifying  an  ex- 
hibit as  is  afforded  in  the  department  of  the  Gard.  In 
the  great  centers  the  numerical  showing  is  small.  Un- 
der Napoleon  III,  Protestantism  was  repressed,  espe- 
cially in  the  cities.  Under  the  Republic,  however,  it  has 
enjoyed,  not  only  liberty,  but  a  species  of  governmental 
encouragement.  This  new  opportunity  it  is  grandly 
using.  There  is  great  activity  in  Paris,  and  good  results 
are  attending  it.  The  Reformed  faith  is  not  without 
its  representatives  in  newspaper  circles.  It  is  a  hopeful 
fact  that  the  Temps,  one  of  the  most  respectable  of  Paris 
journals,  is  of  Protestant  predilection,  and  it  is  equally 
gratifying  to  know  that  there  is  a  religious  journal  in 
Paris  whose  name,  Le  Huguenot,  sufficiently  indicates 
its  character,  which  is  so  prosperous  that  its  circulation 
is  maintained  at  10,000  copies. 

As  an  offset  to  this  prosperity  it  ought  to  be  men- 
tioned that  French  Protestantism  suffered  a  serious  loss 
numerically  by  the  war  of  1870-71.  In  the  two  prov- 
inces taken  by  Germany  the  Protestant  cause  had  some- 
thing like  200,000  adherents.  Most  of  these  are  gone, 
at  least  from  the  statistics  of  Protestantism  in  France. 


200  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

The  impartial  observer,  remembering  what  Germany  did 
for  the  Huguenots  in  the  time  of  their  bloody  trials, 
and  that  one  of  the  finest  churches  in  Berlin  stands  to 
this  day  as  a  monument  of  the  asylum  she  afforded  her 
persecuted  brothers  when  France  itself  cast  them  out, — 
when  one  remembers  this,  it  is  impossible  to  begrudge 
to  that  nation  the  religious  acquisition  which  the  for- 
tunes of  battle  have  brought  to  her.  But  French  Prot- 
estants feel  differently,  and  one  does  not  need  to  be  long 
in  their  midst  to  see  very  clearly  that  patriotism, 
joined  to  a  sense  of  denominational  bereavement,  makes 
the  Franco-Prussian  war  a  sad  memory  to  them,  and 
Germany  a  nation  which  does  not  in  the  least  com- 
mand their  love. 

We  were  interested  to  know  the  exact  feeling  of 
French  Protestants  upon  the  question  of  disestablish- 
ment, or,  in  other  words,  the  withdrawal  from  all  re- 
ligions of  the  aid  they  now  receive  from  the  State.  It 
has  been  remarked  elsewhere  that  this  could  be  done  at 
any  time  by  a  simple  refusal  on  the  part  of  the  Leg- 
islature to  pass  the  budget  for  this  purpose.  That 
party  in  the  Chamber  known  as  the  Left,  and  embrac- 
ing the  more  advanced  Radicals,  has  threatened  that 
before  long  something  of  this  kind  will  occur.  Conse- 
quently it  was  a  pertinent  question  with  us,  What  are 
the  probabilities  of  such  a  course,  and  how  is  it  viewed 
by  those  Protestant  Churches  which  are  directly  in- 
terested ? 


FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM.  201 

Our  queries  were  addressed  to  Pastor  Lorriaux,  a 
scholarly  and  influential  minister  of  the  Reformed 
Church.  Of  course  he  could  speak  only  for  his  own 
denomination  ;  but  when  it  is  remembered  that  the  Re- 
formed Church  embraces  about  five-sixths  of  all  the 
Protestants  in  France,  the  views  of  this  clergyman  be- 
come singularly  weighty.  As  to  the  prospect,  Mr. 
Lorriaux  was  not  apprehensive.  Radicalism,  he  said, 
became  more  sober  when  it  got  into  power.  What 
men  might  threaten  from  irresponsible  seats  was  often 
quite  different  from  what  they  did  as  Cabinet  minis- 
ters. It  was  distinctly  recognized  by  Republicans  of 
every  shade  that  disestablishment  would  put  a  severe 
strain  upon  the  existing  form  of  government,  and  that  it 
might  even  precipitate  a  civil  war.  To  withdraw  State 
aid  from  the  priests  would  be  to  make  them  more  bit- 
ter toward  the  Republic  than  they  were  even  now, 
and  what  was  more,  it  would  touch  the  peasantry  of 
the  nation  at  the  one  point  in  which  they  were  the 
most  sensitive,  their  pockets. 

"What  does  the  average  peasant  care  for  liberty?" 
exclaimed  our  friend.  "Such  an  appeal  does  not  touch 
him.  What  he  wants  is  a  chance  to  support  himself, 
and  to  enjoy  without  cost,  as  he  may  need  them,  the 
forms  and  ceremonies  of  the  Church.  Deprive  him  of 
these,  or  make  the  enjoyment  of  them  burdensome,  and 
you  make  an  enemy  of  him.  If  the  Republic  should  do 
this,  he  would  become  the  enemy  of  the  Republic,  and 


202  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

would  be  ready  for  a  change.  He  is  not  devout,  but 
he  is  a  great  lover  of  Church  ceremonials,  arid  hence 
is  in  need  of  his  priest.  Besides  which  he  is  frugal — 
perhaps  a  little  sordid — and  wants  everything  as  cheap 
as  possible,  including  religion.  It  must  not  be  forgotten 
either  that  the  peasantry  has  the  controlling  electoral 
power.  The  revolutionary  and  publishing  power  is  in 
the  cities;  the  voting  power  is  in  the  country." 

These  are  the  considerations,  reported  almost  verbatim, 
which,  in  Mr.  Lorriaux's  judgment,  make  it  extremely 
improbable  that  the  existing  status  will  be  interfered 
with.  "Nevertheless,"  said  he,  "disestablishment  is 
a  beautiful  ideal,  and  it  may  finally  be  realized.  It 
would  leave  us  freer  than  we  are,  and  would  summon 
our  Church  to  great  sacrifices.  So  far  it  would  be  a 
gain.  We  Protestants  are  poor,  as  a  rule,  though  there 
are  some  among  us  who  are  wealthy.  We  should  sadly 
miss  the  little  help  we  get  from  the  State;  but  no  doubt 
by  a  readjustment  of  our  methods  and  a  greater  reliance 
upon  God,  we  should  survive,  and  should  be  able  to 
carry  forward  our  work.  In  the  event  of  general  dis- 
establishment, Protestants  would  be  greater  sufferers 
relatively  than  Catholics,  because  they  are  fewer,  poorer, 
and  have  less  of  social  prestige.  But  we  are  not  ex- 
pecting such  an  event,  nor  are  we  taking  active  steps 
to  bring  it  about.  We  recognize,  however,  that  such  a 
change  is  possible,  and  hence  we  are  getting  ready  for 
it  by  strengthening  our  organization  in  various  ways. 


FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM.  203 

While  not,  perhaps,  desiring  disestablishment,  we  are 
not  afraid  of  it,  and  we  do  not  doubt  that  if  it  should 
come,  God  will  bring  safely  through  the  storm — for 
storm  it  will  be— both  the  Church  and  the  nation." 

By  the  same  excellent  authority  we  were  enlightened 
upon  another  interesting  subject ;  namely,  the  relative 
status  within  the  Reformed  Church  of  evangelicalism  and 
rationalism.  In  substance  what  our  kind  informant 
said  upon  this  topic  was  as  follows:  "When  this 
Church  was  resurrected  by  Napoleon  I,  it  was  wholly 
rationalistic.  Then  came  a  great  revival,  and  since 
that  time  rationalism  has  been  steadily  on  the  wane.  At 
present  its  representatives  in  the  ministry  are  from 
eighty  to  one  hundred  in  a  total  of  six  hundred.  Of 
two  faculties  of  theology,  both  supported  by  the  Gov- 
ernment, that  in  Paris,  which  is  rationalistic,  has  about 
fifty  students;  that  at  Montauban,  which  is  evangel- 
ical, about  eighty.  Ministers  of  the  rationalistic  school 
are  not  aggressive.  They  do  not  preach  against  Christ; 
they  simply  refrain  from  preaching  for  him.  All  they 
ask  now  is  to  be  let  alone — a  different  attitude  alto- 
gether from  that  formerly  maintained.  Many  consis- 
tories have  turned  completely  around  from  rationalism 
to  sound  evangelicalism.  All  the  changes  are  of  that 
kind  ;  all  the  victories  on  that  side.  Rationalism  has  no 
life,  and  hence  it  makes  no  effort.  From  this  point  of 
view,  the  situation  in  French  Protestantism  is  very 
gratifying,  and  the  outlook  extremely  hopeful." 


204  IN  SUNNY  FRANCK. 

To  confirm  our  o\vii  observations,  and  what  we  had 
learned  by  inquiry  and  reading,  as  to  the  opportunities 
presented  to  French  Protestantism  for  an  active  cam- 
paign in  behalf  of  the  masses,  an  interview  was 
sought  with  another  leading  minister,  Jean  Mounier. 
"  We  can  go  everywhere,"  said  this  noble  descendant  of 
the  Huguenots,  "and  wherever  we  preach  we  have  good 
results.  Formerly  we  were  restricted  and  hampered  in 
our  evangelizing  efforts;  now  we  are  free.  The  large 
towns]  offer  a  very  inviting  field  ;  but  we  think  our- 
selves somewhat  happy  in  the  fact  that,  like  the  Apostle 
Paul,  we  find  our  most  congenial  sphere  in  the  suburbs 
of  such  towns.  Our  missions  in  mining  districts  show 
a  constant  increase.  One  new  Church  has  been  built 
up  into  a  membership  of  three  hundred — all  these  hav- 
ing formerly  been  Roman  Catholics.  The  workmen  re- 
ceive us  gladly,  and  these  constitute  a  fourth  of  the 
population.  Among  the  middle  and  upper  classes  we 
make  little  headway,  because  these  are  strongly  attached 
by  tradition  to  Romanism.  Occasionally,  however,  some 
of  these  come  to  us.  For  instance,  M.  Taine,  the  dis- 
tinguished author,  and  heretofore  a  Catholic,  has  re- 
cently presented  his  daughter  to  Pastor  Hollard  to  be 
received  as  a  communicant  in  the  Free  Church. 
Amongst  men  of  letters  the  conviction  is  spreading  that 
without  the  religious  life  there  is  no  hope  for  human 
society.  We  have  tried  philosophy,  and  its  results  are 
bad.  Philosophy  and  science  have  raised  new  prob- 


FRENCH  PROTESTANTISM.  205 

ems,  aud  the  young  are  looking  for  an  explanation. 
They  scarcely  understand  what  they  want ;  but  they 
want  something,  and  any  one  who  can  address  them 
intelligently  gains  a  hearing." 

This  is  the  situation  as  those  see  it  who  are  in  the 
thick  of  the  fray.  Possibly,  however,  the  above  es- 
timate may  mislead  the  reader  upon  one  point,  and 
that  is,  with  reference  to  the  drift  from  Catholicism 
to  Protestantism.  That  there  is  such  a  drift  is,  hap- 
pily, quite  beyond  question ;  nor  can  it  be  doubted 
that  in  some  localities  converts  are  made  in  considera- 
ble number.  It  is  to  be  feared,  however,  that  the 
gains  to  Protestantism  from  the  ranks  of  disaffected 
Catholics  are  not  large  when  viewed  in  the  aggregate, 
and  that  relatively,  at  present,  Protestant  accessions 
bear  but  an  indifferent  proportion  to  Catholic  losses. 
The  real  drift,  as  it  seems  to  us,  is  toward  atheism ; 
though  this,  even  if  it  be  true,  does  not  at  all  prove 
that  French  Protestantism  is  not  doing  what  she  can. 
It  would  rather  seem  to  show  that  she  has  an  enor- 
mous task  cut  out  for  her,  and  that  in  her  noble  effort 
to  meet  this  crisis  she  deserves  the  sympathy  and  re- 
quires the  help  of  her  sister  religionists  throughout  the 
wide  world. 


THE  CONTINENTAL  SUNDAY. 

THE  Sunday  question  is  almost  as  live  a  topic  in 
leading  European  nations  as  it  has  been  for  some- 
time in  the  United  States.  But  over  here  the  agitation 
and  trend  are  decidedly  favorable  to  a  stricter  observ- 
ance of  that  day;  whereas  the  clamor  of  large  classes 
in  our  mixed  American  population  is  for  change  in  the 
opposite  direction.  Viewing  the  day  solely  in  its  civil 
aspect  as  a  day  of  rest,  the  difference  between  Europe 
and  America  seems  to  be  that,  on  the  eastern  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  there  is  an  effort  to  realize  the  very  conditions 
which,  on  the  other  side,  are  in  danger  of  being  wan- 
tonly given  up.  So  marked  are  these  opposite  tenden- 
cies that,  assuming  their  indefinite  continuance,  it  is  not 
impossible  to  imagine  a  time  when  Sunday  will  find,  in 
European  lands,  its  most  zealous  champions,  and  in 
America  a  state,  of  things  the  precise  counterpart  of 
what  has  seemed  to  the  American  mind,  as  we  have  ob- 
served it  in  others,  an  example  to  be  deprecated  and 
shunned. 

This  new  putting  of  the  status  of  Sunday  in  Eu- 
rope will  awaken  surprise  in  many  quarters;  and,  to 
those  who  are  ignorant  of  the  latest  developments  over 

here,  it  will   be   so  much  of  a  novelty  that  they  will 
206 


THE  CONTINENTAL  SUNDAY.  207 

hardly  be  able  to  credit  it.  The  average  American,  we 
venture  to  believe,  thinks  of  Sunday  on  the  Continent 
as  a  hopeless  cause ;  a  day  secularized  quite  beyond  rem- 
edy; an  institution  with  no  friends  to  fight  for  it,  and 
with  scarcely  enough  vitality  in  it  to  provoke  a  discus- 
sion. We  even  suspect  that  this  view  is  held  in  a  mild 
form  by  not  a  few  who  have  traveled  in  these  lands. 
The  Americans  who  visit  Europe  are  here  usually  only 
as  sight-seers.  With  rare  exceptions  they  scarcely  ever  in- 
quire about  institutions  and  laws;  they  seldom  penetrate 
beneath  the  surface  of  things;  and  as  for  the  Sabbath, 
it  is  notorious  that  very  many  American  tourists  seem 
so  fully  convinced  that  nobody  over  here  cares  for  it 
that  they  cease  very  soon  to  show  any  regard  for  it 
themselves.  Spite  of  all,  however,  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  Sabbath  observance  even  on  the  Continent  of  Eu- 
rope; and  it  will  interest  and  gratify  the  better  class  of 
our  readers — especially  the  working-class — to  be  as- 
sured, by  one  who  has  investigated  the  subject,  that  in 
France  and  Germany  the  day  is  so  much  better  regarded 
than  it  used  to  be  as  to  afford  reasonable  hope  that  it 
will  become  eventually,  if  not  a  strictly  'religious  holi- 
day, at  least  a  day  on  which  all  business  and  labor  will 
be  suspended. 

In  Berlin,  at  the  time  we  write,  the  Sunday  question 
is  the  question  of  the  hour.  One  thing  which  shows 
this,  is  the  zeal  of  those  who  stand  up  for  the  old  order 
of  things.  In  his  lecture  at  the  university,  a  few  days 


208  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

ago,  Professor  Von  Trcitschke,  the  great  Prussian  his- 
torian, digressed  from  his  theme  to  say,  with  pronounced 
emphasis:  "We  don't  want  the  American  Sunday — 
we  are  satisfied  with  the  German  Sunday."  Undoubt- 
edly many  of  the  people  are  satisfied,  but  some  are  not; 
and  this  is  notably  the  case  with  those  to  whom  the 
German  Sunday  has  been  heretofore  a  day  of  toil,  with 
nothing  to  distinguish  it  from  other  days.  Not  only 
are  the  latter  dissatisfied  with  the  German  Sunday,  but 
their  complaints  have  found  potential  expression,  and 
have  been  incorporated  within  recent  months  into  a  law 
of  the  Reichstag. 

This  law  makes  long  strides  toward  the  prohibition 
in  Germany  of  all  Sunday  labor.  It  affects  factories, 
workshops,  offices,  stores,  and  almost  every  other  place 
either  of  manufacture  or  merchandise.  lu  many  de- 
partments Sunday  labor  must  be  stopped  altogether, 
and  it  must  be  brought  down  to  the  minimum  in  every 
department.  Such  is  the  new  law  in  Germany.  Its 
effects  in  Berlin  are  very  marked.  The  shops  now  can 
be  kept  open  not  more  than  five  hours  on  Sundays. 
These  hours  must  never  infringe  upon  Church  hours; 
and,  what  is  more,  when  the  shops  are  closed  they  must 
be  shut  up  tightly.  Even  the  windows  must  be  closed — 
an  improvised  curtain  being  required  where  shutters  are 
lacking;  and  one  of  the  best  evidences  that  Germany 
is  in  earnest  in  this  reform  is  that  the  police,  so  far,  have 
fearlessly  done  their  duty. 


THE  CONTINENTAL  SUNDAY.  209 

It  is  quite  true  that  these  conditions  are  not  ideal. 
The  reform,  indeed,  is  a  very  partial  one;  and  when  it 
is  remembered  that  these  new  regulations  do  not  affect 
in  the  least  the  ever-privileged  drinkiug-saloon,  the  sit- 
uation becomes  more  unsatisfactory  still.  But  the  new 
regime  is  a  decided  improvement  on  the  one  it  supplants ; 
and  however  far  this  advance  may  fall  short  of  what 
is  needed,  it  certainly  indicates  progress.  One  has  to 
remember,  however,  that  it  is  not  a  religious  movement 
either  in  its  origin  or  intent.  It  is  quite  in  harmony 
with  religion  in  so  far  as  it  restricts  from  Sunday  labor 
and  suspends  business  on  that  day;  but  the  enactment 
of  this  law,  we  have  been  assured,  was  not  in  the  least 
due  to  any  action  on  the  part  of  the  Churches,  nor  to 
any  desire  to  keep  Sunday  as  a  holy  day.  It  is  strictly 
a  working-class  reform.  It  originated  in  the  demand  of 
this  class  for  a  day  of  rest  from  secular  toil;  and,  as  all 
are  agreed,  it  was  taken  up  by  the  Government  largely 
as  a  matter  of  policy,  because  it  was  pushed  so  urgently 
by  that  growing  party  in  German  politics  known  as  the 
Social  Democrats. 

In  regard  to  France,  if  one  may  judge  of  the  nation 
generally  by  what  is  obvious  in  Paris,  the  improvement 
here  is  little  less  marked  than  in  the  dominions  of  the 
Kaiser.  With  this  difference,  however,  that  the  changes 
in  the  former  of  these  countries  are  due  solely  to  the 
force  of  sentiment,  without,  as  yet,  any  advanced  action 

of  the  Legislature   on   the  subject.     But  if  the  recent 

14 


210  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

years  have  witnessed  no  change  in  the  French  law,  they 
have  at  least  brought  forth  one  very  tangible  thing, 
and  that  is  a  Sunday  Observance  Society.  Its  full 
French  title  is,  "La  Ligue  Populaire  pour  le  Repos  du 
Diraanche  en  France."  The  first  president  of  this 
League  was  M.  Jules  Simon,  and  the  gentleman  now 
filling  that  office  is  M.  Leon  Say.  Both  are  members 
of  the  French  Academy,  and  besides  being  eminent  in 
literature,  they  are  distinguished  in  political  life.  Jules 
Simon  is  a  senator,  and  one  of  the  finest  orators  in 
France,  while  Leon  Say  is  an  eloquent  and  influential 
deputy.  Neither  of  these  gentlemen  is  a  pronounced 
Christian,  though  the  last  named  is  nominally  a  Prot- 
estant. 

This  Society,  however,  is  in  no  sense  a  religious 
body,  nor  does  it  profess  to  seek  religious  ends.  Senator 
Jules  Simon  said  of  it,  some  time  ago:  "  We  desire  that 
our  workmen  may  have  a  day's  rest  once  a  week,  and 
Sunday  is  naturally  the  day  we  have  chosen.  But  our 
undertaking  is  a  difficult  one,  because  it  runs  counter 
to  numerous  customs  and  interests.  Two  years  ago  our 
Society  numbered  twenty  persons;  to-day  we  count  over 
2,500  members,  made  up  of  Republicans,  Monarchists, 
Catholics  and  Protestants,  bishops  and  Freethinkers. 
We  have  already  achieved  some  practical  results.  In 
the  post-office  we  have  got  the  hours  shortened  on  Sun- 
day, and  we  are  now  laboring  with  the  railroad  com- 
panies." 


THK  CONTINENTAL  SUNDAY.  211 

These  words  sufficiently  disclose  both  the  objects  of 
this  Society  and  the  rapid  growth  it  has  had.  But  as 
an  index  of  what  the  recent  past  has  witnessed  in  Paris 
in  the  way  of  Sunday  reform,  they  are  too  modest  alto- 
gether. Some  of  the  signs  of  improvement  the  visitor 
to  this  city  can  see  with  his  own  eyes;  but  to  get  the 
broadest  and  truest  view,  one  must  converse  on  this  sub- 
ject with  intelligent  and  progressive  Frenchmen.  Twenty 
years  have  wrought  changes  for  the  better  which  are 
truly  marvelous.  No  statistics  are  available,  but  the 
best  judges  hold  that  within  that  period  the  number  of 
workmen  following  their  ordinary  occupations  on  Sun- 
day has  been  reduced  by  more  than  one-half.  In  rail- 
way circles  the  chief  reform  is  in  the  Sunday  delivery 
of  goods.  Formerly  this  was  carried  on  all  day  long ; 
now  it  is  only  done  in  the  morning.  As  to  the  retail 
stores,  the  common  notion  is  that  they  are  all  open, 
with  rare  exceptions,  at  all  hours  on  Sunday,  and  that 
the  heaviest  trade  is  done  on  that  day.  This,  however, 
is  a  scandalous  fallacy.  Such  a  notion  may  have  had 
only  too  good  a  foundation  in  times  gone  by,  but  the 
Parisian  Sunday  of  to-day  is  almost  as  different  in  this 
matter  from  what  it  was  formerly  as  Paris  itself  is  from 
the  aspect  it  presented  prior  to  the  Third  Napoleon's 
time. 

At  present  many  of  the  stores  do  not  open  at  all  on 
Sunday,  and  many  of  those  which  do  open  are  closed 
again  after  a  few  hours.  This  is  especially  noticeable  in 


212  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

those  quarters  where  the  best  class  of  trade  is  done. 
In  poorer  quarters,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the  improve- 
ment is  less  marked;  and  it  need  hardly  be  said  that 
cafes,  and  places  of  that  kind,  are  no  more  affected  by 
this  change  of  sentiment  in  Paris  than  they  are  by  the 
wholesome  but  inadequate  laws  which  regulate  the  Sun- 
day traffic  of  Berlin.  As  to  the  post-office,  it  is  quite 
true  that  a  number  of  deliveries  have  been  dispensed 
with;  but  the  postman  still  waits  upon  you  several 
times  in  the  forenoon,  and  experience  has  shown  us  that 
on  Sundays — as  on  other  days — you  can  be  troubled 
with  letters  very  late  at  night.  It  is  gratifying  to  note, 
however,  that,  excepting  in  those  lines  in  which  the 
letting  out  of  the  fires  would  involve  considerable  loss, 
manufacturing  is  very  generally  at  a  standstill  during 
the  hours  of  Sunday ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  also, 
with  even  less  allowance  for  exceptions,  of  the  great 
wholesale  trade  of  this  city. 

A  Parisian  gentleman,  who  is  very  prominent  in  lit- 
erary and  philanthropic  circles,  pointed  us  with  pride  to 
the  Sunday  aspect  worn  at  the  present  day  by  the  Rue 
Aboukir.  This  is  the  very  heart  of  the  wholesale 
quarter.  "Forty  years  ago,"  he  observed,  "my  father- 
in-law,  a  wholesale  woolen  dealer,  moved  into  that  street 
from  the  north  of  France.  With  him  he  brought  his 
custom  of  resting  from  business  on  Sunday.  To  the 
amazement  and  disgust  of  those  about  him  he  perse- 
vered in  this  custom.  He  would  neither  be  laughed 


THE  CONTINENTAL  SUNDAY.  213 

out  of  it  by  ridicule,  nor  frightened  out  of  it  by  predic- 
tions which  foretold  his  ultimate  bankruptcy.  Finally, 
seeing  that  he  continued  to  prosper,  others  followed  his 
example ;  and  the  course  of  some  years  witnessed  the 
closing  on  Sundays  of  every  wholesale  house  in  that 
neighborhood,  which  is  now  as  much  characterized  by 
an  air  of  Sabbath  repose  as  the  wholesale  parts  of  Lon- 
don itself." 

Such  an  instance  as  this,  besides  showing  how  much 
good  may  be  done  by  a  worthy  example,  shows  at  a  flash 
also  how,  in  recent  years,  this  city  of  Paris,  which  very 
many  have  thought  hopelessly  wedded  to  Sabbath  traffic, 
has  been  gradually  emancipating  itself  and  taking  on 
better  habits.  She  is  still  very  far,  of  course — just  as 
is  Berlin — from  approximating  to  either  English  or 
American  ideals;  but  one  has  only  to  look  about  him, 
with  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  to  inquire  with  unbiased 
mind,  in  well-informed  and  well-disposed  circles,  to  dis- 
cover in  both  these  cities  a  decided  improvement,  and 
fully  to  convince  himself  that  both  cities  are  traveling 
in  the  right  direction. 

In  regard  to  amusements  and  recreations,  there  is 
little  or  no  change;  and  what  makes  the  prospect  in 
this  direction  particularly  gloomy,  from  the  point  of 
view  occupied  by  Christian  Americans,  is  that,  all  over 
the  Continent,  there  seems  to  be  an  utter  lack  of  con- 
science on  this  subject.  With  the  exception  of  a  small 
evangelical  contingent,  which  is  almost  wholly  confined 


214  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

to  missionary  Churches,  the  Protestants  of  France  and 
Germany  seem  to  be  no  more  scrupulous  in  these  mat 
ters  than  their  Roman  Catholic  neighbors.  To  give  an 
example,  we  were  in  conversation  recently  with  one  of 
the  most  devout  and  learned  of  the  pastors  of  the  Re- 
formed Church  of  France,  and  in  answer  to  our  ques- 
tion as  to  what  would  be  expected  from  his  members 
in  the  way  of  Sunday  observance,  his  reply  was  that  it 
would  not  be  in  the  least  improper,  after  attendance  at 
Church  in  the  morning,  to  occupy  the  afternoon  in  a 
visit  to  the  Louvre  or  in  a  ramble  through  one  of  the 
parks;  and  as  to  his  young  men,  he  did  not  feel  at  all 
warranted  in  cautioning  them  against  the  little  games 
of  lawn-tennis  they  played  on  Sunday,  because  they 
were  constantly  offered  in  Paris  so  many  diversions  that 
were  immoral. 

This  same  gentleman,  however,  was  unstinted  in  his 
commendation  of  the  good  work  going  forward  under 
the  patronage  of  men  like  Jules  Simon  and  Leon  Say ; 
and  it  really  appears  as  though,  upon  the  cardinal  point 
of  reducing  to  a  minimum  all  Sunday  labor,  the  best 
minds  of  France,  whether  evangelical  or  atheistic,  Cath- 
olic or  Protestant,  are  in  unanimous  and  hearty  agree- 
ment. 


XXI. 
FRENCH  HOLIDAY-MAKING. 

THE  French  character  runs  to  extremes.  It  would 
be  hard  to  find  a  people  who  follow  more  indus- 
triously their  daily  avocations,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
it  would  be  difficult  to  match  them  in  the  wild  aban- 
donment with  which  their  national  holidays  are  observed. 
It  is  noteworthy,  too,  that  most  of  their  holidays  are 
"holy  days,"  which  had  their  origin,  and  still  find  their 
center  of  interest,  in  the  Catholic  Church.  In  all  her  ef- 
forts to  throw  off  the  trammels  of  Romanism — some  of 
which  have  been  carried  very  far — this  nation  has  shown 
no  eagerness  up  to  the  present  to  ignore  the  grand  fetes 
of  that  Church,  and  while  high  and  low  shall  continue 
to  be  as  fond  as  they  now  are  of  occasions  for  gayety 
and  display,  a  crusade  of  this  kind  is  hardly  to  be  ex- 
pected. 

Among  the  lesser  holidays  are  the  Ascension  in  May, 
the  Assumption  in  August,  and  All  Saints'  Day  on  No- 
vember 1st.  The  Church,  of  course,  has  numerous  other 
gala-days  of  greater  or  less  importance ;  but  these  three 
are  amongst  the  days  which  the  nation  has  fixed  upon, 
and  still  sacredly  observes,  as  occasions  when  the  banks 
are  closed,  and  when  the  populace  generally  has  govern- 
mental sanction  for  turning  out  to  enjoy  itself.  The 

215 


216  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

brightest  of  these  three  clays  is  that  devoted  to  the  blessed 
Virgin.  The  Churches  on  that  day  are  a  mass  of  floral 
whiteness.  It  is  also  customary  on  this  day  to  present 
white  flowers  to  those  girls  whose  fond  mammas  had  them 
christened  Marie,  and  as  about  every  other  French  dam- 
sel is  the  happy  possessor  of  that  name,  it  is  a  great  day 
for  French  florists  and  correspondingly  a  time  of  deple- 
tion for  French  purses.  All  Saints  is  a  sadder  time,  be- 
cause it  immediately  precedes  All  Souls'  Day,  when  the 
French  people  pour  en  masse  into  their  cemeteries  to  lay 
floral  emblems  on  the  resting-places  of  their  dead.  In 
fact,  All  Saints'  Day  itself  is  largely  employed  in  pa- 
thetic services  of  this  kind,  and  if  one  would  form  a  true 
idea  of  the  extreme  lengths  to  which  the  French  people 
go  in  the  observance  of  this  custom,  he  must  visit  the 
graveyards,  as  we  did,  and  witness  this  deeply  impress- 
ive spectacle  for  himself.  To  see  the  profusion  of  flowers 
the  day  after  All  Souls,  is  something  one  can  never  for- 
get, and,  really,  what  one  sees  in  our  own  cemeteries 
after  Decoration-day  is  hardly  a  circumstance  to  the  way 
in  which  the  French  attend  to  such  matters. 

Christmas  is  another  national  holiday ;  but  the  na- 
tion, for  some  reason,  has  not  made  of  this  fete  any- 
thing like  the  great  occasion  which  it  is  either  in  Ger- 
many or  in  countries  where  English  is  spoken.  The 
Churches  observe  it,  as  a  matter  of  course,  with  the 
pomp  usual  in  Roman  Catholic  strongholds,  and  with 
some  extras  as  a  tribute  to  the  French  love  for  realistic 


FRENCH  HOLIDAY-MAKING.  217 

art.  The  midnight  mass  is  a  great  function,  and  the 
Government,  by  the  way,  seems  so  bent  upon  making  it 
exclusively  a  French  affair,  that  the  few  foreign  Churches 
in  Paris  which  observe  it,  have  to  pay  an  exorbitant  tax 
for  the  privilege.  Another  striking  feature  is  the  re- 
production before  one  of  the  altars  of  the  familiar  Birth- 
scene.  Nearly  all  the  Churches  furnish  a  Christmas  at- 
traction of  this  kind ;  but  the  Church  which  generally 
excels  in  spectacular  effects  is  St.  Roche's,  in  the  Rue 
St.  Honore.  Joseph  and  Mary  are  there,  life-size,  and 
modeled  after  the  best  portraits.  So  are  the  patient  cows, 
and  the  beast  of  burden  which  had  brought  the  Holy 
Mother  to  Bethlehem.  To  help  the  illusion,  there  is 
also  a  manger  with  plenty  of  straw  scattered  about,  but 
the  central  and  most  interesting  figure  is  a  wax  model 
of  the  Holy  Child. 

Until  very  recently  the  French  have  taken  no  stock  in 
Santa  Glaus,  in  Christmas-trees,  in  what  the  English  call 
"  Christmas  boxes,"  or  even  in  our  own  American  craze 
for  the  pretty  cards  fashionable  at  that  season.  But  the 
country,  in  these  latter  days,  is  being  favored  or  af- 
flicted— which  the  reader  pleases — by  an  invasion  of  ideas 
and  customs  from  the  other  side  of  the  Channel.  In  other 
words,  the  bon  ton  of  French  society  is  becoming  "Eng- 
lish, you  know."  To  dress  after  the  English  fashion  is 
quite  the  swell  thing  now  with  men  in  the  upper  circles. 
Not  only  have  English  trousers  come  over,  but  the  fash- 
ion of  turning  them  up  at  the  boots  has  captured  the 


218  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

French  mind;  and  among  the  numerous  other  hubits 
which  the  French  are  contracting  from  the  English,  is 
that  of  observing  Christmas.  This,  however,  is  only  in 
Paris  and  the  larger  towns  in  the  Provinces.  Elsewhere 
the  day  is  scarcely  marked  at  all  by  the  features  which 
signalize  it  in  the  United  States.  In  fact,  in  every  re- 
spect, excepting  as  a  bank-holiday  and  a  feast  of  the 
Church,  it  seems  to  be  passed  by  unnoticed  in  the  wild 
anticipation  with  which  everybody  just  then  is  looking 
forward  to  the  New-Year. 

To  show  at  a  flash  how  much  is  made  of  New- Year's 
day  in  France  we  mention  a  single  circumstance.  At 
the  time  we  write,  the  comment  of  some  of  the  papers 
upon  the  new  ministry  which  has  come  into  power,  is 
this:  That  about  the  only  thing  which  can  save  it  from 
summary  overthrow  is  the  near  approach  of  that  French 
holiday  which  is  sacredly  set  apart  by  all  classes  to  the 
cultivation  and  expression  of  good  fellowship.  In  its 
social  aspects  this  day  is  everything  to  the  Frenchman 
that  Christmas  and  Thanksgiving  are  to  the  American, 
and  even  more.  The  grand  Parisian  shops,  instead  of 
putting  out  a  Christmas  display,  announce  in  blazing 
characters  their  "  exposition  des  etrennes,"  which  means  a 
display  of  the  most  costly  and  tempting  New-Year's  gifts. 
Costly  is  the  true  word  for  some  of  these  gifts;  for  how 
else  can  you  speak  of  elaborate  boxes  of  bonbons  at  from 
fifty  to  a  hundred  francs  each,  or  of  ravishing  dolls, 


FRENCH  HOLIDAY-MAKING.  219 

which,  if  you  bought  them,  would  make  as  big  a  vacuum 
in  your  pocket-book  as  au  ordinary  bridal  trousseau  ? 

In  Paris  the  coming  of  this  great  holiday  is  indi- 
cated by  a  transformation  ou  the  Great  Boulevards.  From 
the  Madeleine  to  the  end  of  Boulevard  des  Italiens  the 
broad  sidewalks  are  skirted  with  booths — Barraques  du 
jour  de  Van,  is  their  French  cognomen.  In  these  all  sorts 
of  toys  and  fancy  goods  are  for  sale ;  fortunately,  too, 
at  prices  which  appeal  to  the  masses.  Every  year  some 
new  toy  comes  out,  and  so  great  is  Paris  on  following 
the  fashion,  that  this  novelty,  be  it  pretty  or  ugly,  use- 
ful or  superfluous,  becomes  the  rage  of  the  hour,  and,  in 
consequence,  the  final  possession  of  every  child  in  the 
town.  This,  moreover,  is  auother  season  when  florists  do 
a  big  business ;  for  wherever  a  gentleman  may  have  taken 
dinner  occasionally,  he  must  send  at  New-Year's  some 
token  of  grateful  remembrance.  Otherwise,  hospitality 
is  likely  to  be  withdrawn  ;  and  these  tributes,  as  a  rule, 
take  the  form  of  an  exquisite  bouquet,  or  perhaps,  if 
there  is  a  mademoiselle  in  the  house,  the  gift  is  a  dainty 
assortment  of  sweets. 

These,  however,  are  trifling  matters,  which,  in  the 
sum  total  of  New-Year's  customs,  make  scarcely  any 
figure.  In  addition  to  the  universal  exchange  of  pres- 
ents between  friends,  there  are  your  servants  and  de- 
pendents to  be  looked  after.  None  of  thesecanbe  slighted, 
if  you  value  either  your  standing  or  your  peace  of  mind, 


220  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

and  to  some  the  gifts  must  be  of  substantial  value. 
Such  a  wishing  of  Bonne  Annt  as  there  is  all  around  at 
this  season  would  do  one's  heart  good,  were  it  not  for 
the  knowledge  you  have  that  almost  every  one  who 
wishes  you  a  good  year,  wishes  also  to  be  remembered 
by  a  good  present.  Everybody  who  has  served  you,  or 
who  has  been  ready  to  serve  you,  wishes  you  well — the 
butcher's  boy,  the  baker's  boy,  the  street-sweeper,  the 
milkman,  the  lamplighter,  and,  in  fact,  all  sorts  and 
conditions  of  people,  some  of  whom  you  never  have 
seen  before,  and  will  not  see  again,  perhaps,  for  another 
twelvemonth.  In  fact,  it  is  just  as  it  is  at  Christmas 
time  in  America,  only  a  hundred  times  more  so. 

Here,  as  in  England,  the  postman  comes  in  for  one 
of  your  largest  bounties,  and  we  only  wish  that  the 
French  postal  system  rendered  its  representatives  as 
worthy  as  the  English  of  what  is  annually  meted  out  to 
them  at  this  season.  But  if  the  system  is  not  a  very 
deserving  one,  the  letter-carriers  themselves  are  worthy 
enough;  and  when  one  thinks  of  the  enormous  amount 
of  extra  work  the  New- Year  entails,  one  can  hardly 
begrudge  the  five  or  ten  francs  they  expect  in  the  form 
of  a  New-Year's  largess.  Which  reminds  us  of  another 
French  custom — that  of  exchanging  cartes  de  visite  at 
this  season.  Everybody  does  it  with  everybody  he 
knows.  The  ordinary  calling-card  is  used,  and  the  cus- 
tom is  so  extensive  that  these  missives  are  received  at 
the  post-offices  in  separate  boxes.  To  handle  them  in 


FRKNCH  HOLIDAY-MAKING.  221 

connection  with  the  other  mails  would  interfere  seriously 
with  business.  As  it  is,  however,  they  are  distributed 
and  dispatched  at  the  convenience  of  the  officials,  and 
it  sometimes  happens  that  the  enormous  pile  is  not 
entirely  cleared  until  the  New- Year  is  three  or  four 
weeks  old. 

A  distinctively  French  functionary  is  the  concierge. 
He  is  literally  ubiquitous  in  the  cities  and  towns.  You 
pass  his  room — or  hers,  as  the  case  may  be — every  time 
you  enter  or  leave  your  apartment.  However  late  you 
may  come  in  at  night,  the  concierge,  by  some  attach- 
ment near  his  bed,  unfastens  the  door  for  you.  He 
receives  your  letters,  stands  in  with  the  servants  for 
every  bit  of  gossip  about  your  affairs,  and  collects  reg- 
ularly the  rent  you  may  pay.  For  these  and  various 
other  purposes  he  is  hired  by  the  landlord,  but  much  of 
his  keep  is  drawn  from  the  tenants  in  the  shape  of  tips 
and  fees.  You  will  never  go  amiss  in  making  a  pres- 
ent to  this  functionary,  and  what  is  appropriate  and 
wise  at  any  time,  becomes  at  New- Year's  your  solemn 
and  never-to-be-forgotten  duty.  An  expensive  one,  too; 
for  if  you  are  living  in  fairly  good  style,  it  will  cost 
you  from  a  hundred  to  two  hundred  francs. 

It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  the  New- Year  is  a  time 
when  the  poor  are  specially  remembered.  As  this  sea- 
son approaches,  the  people  are  universally  appealed  to, 
through  the  Bureau  of  Public  Assistance,  for  a  special 
contribution  of  money,  and  few  are  the  families  who  do 


222  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

not  respond.  This  Bureau  operates  through  local  so- 
cieties which  exist  in  every  municipality,  and  a  part  of 
that  which  is  collected  just  before  the  New- Year  be- 
gins is  given  out  on  New- Year's  day  as  a  special  bounty 
to  those  in  need  ;  the  rest  being  kept  as  a  fund  for  the 
more  systematic  relief  of  poverty  all  the  year  through. 
In  addition  to  this,  New- Year's  day  is  marked  by  a  free 
outflow  of  private  benevolence.  Many  will  be  the  calls 
at  your  door,  and,  if  you  are  in  a  typical  French  fam- 
ily, you  will  find  that  hardly  any  caller  is  sent  empty 
away. 

In  France,  too,  our  own  American  custom  of  mak- 
ing New-Year's  calls  is  in  vogue;  but  this  function, 
which  is  falling  into  disuse  with  us,  is  still,  as  it  always 
has  been,  the  life  and  soul  of  the  New-Year  to  a 
Frenchman.  Every  public  official  is  duly  visited  by 
every  subordinate,  and  as  for  the  President  of  the  Re- 
public, his  palace  in  the  Champs  Elysees  is  besieged  all 
day  long.  The  entire  diplomatic  corps  wait  upon  him 
on  New-Year's  day,  and  an  interminable  string  of  other 
carriage-folk.  But  not  the  commoners,  for  the  French 
President  is  surrounded  by  more  fuss  and  feathers  than 
the  occupant  of  the  White  House,  and  he  draws  a  strict 
line  socially  even  at  New- Year's. 

Turkey  and  truffles  is  the  great  dish  for  a  stylish 
New- Year's  dinner.  The  truffles  are  steeped  in  Ma- 
deira wine,  and,  after  being  sliced,  are  inserted  between 
the  skin  and  the  meat  of  this  luscious  fowl.  This,  how- 


FRENCH  HOLIDAY-MAKING.  223 

ever,  is  a  luxury  which  only  the  rich  can  enjoy  in 
France.  Among  the  peasants  the  New-Year  is  pig- 
killing  time,  and  a  little  pork  is  the  peasant's  special 
relish  for  the  New  Year's  dinner.  But  whatever  the 
fare  on  the  table,  there  is  always  good  feeling  in  the 
heart,  and  always  plenty  of  good  company  at  the  fire- 
side. Not  only  must  the  members  of  the  household  sit 
down  together  on  New- Year's  day,  but,  if  possible,  the 
relatives  must  be  gathered  in,  even  to  the  most  distant 
cousin ;  and  one  of  the  very  happiest  of  all  the  New- 
Year's  customs  is  that  which  seizes  upon  the  day  as  a 
suitable  time  for  healing  the  breaches  of  friendship,  and 
for  smoking  the  pipe  of  peace  over  quarrels  which  have 
divided  families. 


XXII. 
POVERTY  AND  WEALTH. 

FROM  some  points  of  view  the  material  condition  of 
the  French  nation  is  gratifying  in  the  extreme. 
She  is  often  described  as  the  richest  nation  in  Europe, 
not  excepting  her  near  neighbor  and  only  European 
rival — Great  Britain.  It  is  very  certain  that  property, 
both  real  and  personal,  is  more  evenly  distributed  in 
France  than  in  England,  even  if  it  does  not  aggregate 
as  much.  To  be  told  that  of  the  ten  millions  of  houses 
in  this  country  one-half  are  occupied  exclusively  by 
their  respective  owners,  affords  us  a  glimpse  of  French 
prosperity  which  seems  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 
Another  discovery  equally  astonishing  is  to  find  the 
landed  proprietors  estimated  at  eight  millions  or  more, 
and  to  be  assured  from  statistics  that  one-half  of  all  the 
soil  devoted  to  agriculture  is  cultivated  by  the  individ- 
uals to  whom  it  belongs.  In  these  respects  Great  Brit- 
ain is  thrown  completely  into  the  shade ;  and  it  becomes 
unquestionable  that,  in  so  far  as  the  general  diffusion 
of  wealth  can  contribute  to  national  greatness,  France 
is  without  a  peer  among  all  the  great  powers  of  the 
world. 

In  the  inquiries  we  have  made  regarding  the  sol- 
vency of  the  French  Government,  we  have  been  met 
224 


POVERTY  AND  WEALTH.  225 

everywhere  by  the  remark  that  an  infallible  proof  of 
this  is  afforded  at  every  fresh  appeal  for  a  national  loan. 
The  amount  required  is  subscribed  for  in  such  cases 
with  an  alacrity  which  ought,  they  say,  to  convince  the 
most  skeptical;  and  it  is  the  judgment  of  patriotic 
Frenchmen  that  there  has  been  no  time  in  recent  years 
when  the  Government  could  not  have  obtained,  without 
the  least  trouble,  ten  times  as  much  as  it  has  asked  for. 
This  is  decidedly  assuring,  if  it  is  true;  for  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  there  is  plenty  of  money  in  the  country, 
and  if  the  numerous  holders  of  it  are  as  ready  as  we 
are  led  to  believe  to  trust  the  Government  with  it, 
there  ought  to  be  no  trouble  in  providing  either  for 
current  expenses,  or  for  such  enormous  drafts  as  aji- 
other  great  war  would  involve. 

Upon  this  point  a  very  interesting  writer,  M. 
Betham-Ed wards,  has  said: 

"We  can  understand  how  the  German  war  in- 
demnity oP  two  hundred  million  sterling  was  paid  when 
we  see  the  country  folks  on  dividend-day.  I  happened 
to  be  at  a  friend's  house  at  Dijon  upon  one  of  these  oc- 
casions, and  he  asked  if  I  would  like  to  accompany  him 
to  the  Recette  Generale,  or  local  branch  of  the  State 
bank.  Before  starting  with  his  own  dividends  and 
those  of  his  family,  he  went  up-stairs  to  the  kitchen, 
and  fetched  the  servants.  True  enough,  all  were  fund- 
holders — one  to  a  considerable  extent.  Arrived  at  the 

office,  it  was  a  sight  to  see  the  motley  crowd  flocking  in 

15 


226  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

with  their  coupons — important  functionaries,  fashionable 
ladies,  laundresses  and  charwomen  in  neat  caps,  labor- 
ers and  artisans  in  blue  blouses — all  contentedly  await- 
ing their  turn.  Nothing  ever  brought  more  forcibly 
home  to  my  mind  the  thrift  of  the  French  nation — the 
forethought  which  brings  about  a  very  real  and  enviable 
equality." 

The  most  astounding  thing  we  have  seen  in  France 
is  the  Eiffel  Tower.  It  looks  so  big  and  high,  when 
you  stand  near  to  it,  as  almost  to  make  one  shudder  at 
the  sense  of  its  unearthliness.  We  refer  to  this  here 
because  it  is  this  mammoth  product  of  the  genius  of 
French  engineering  which  is  seized  upon  by  French 
statisticians  as  the  one  object  best  fitted  to  image  before 
our  minds  the  mammoth  dimensions  of  the  French 
faculty  for  saving  money.  The  Eiffel  Tower,  we  are 
told  by  M.  de  Foville,  weighs  from  seven  to  eight  mill- 
ion kilogrammes — the  kilogramme  being  two  pounds 
and  3-62  ounces.  Yet  if  this  tower  were  reconstructed 
of  solid  silver,  it  would  represent  the  existing  deposits 
of  the  French  people  in  the  national  savings  banks, 
says  this  authority,  only  after  two  additional  stories  had 
been  added  to  it — the  sum  total  of  these  deposits 
amounting  to  two  milliards  of  francs.  Then  follows 
another  unearthly  comparison.  A  milliard,  says  M.  de 
Foville,  is  not  a  figure  easily  grasped  by  the  mind,  for 
not  a  milliard  of  minutes  have  yet  elapsed  since  the 
Christian  era. 


POVERTY  AND  WEALTH.  227 

The  Postal  Savings  Bank  was  instituted  in  1882.  It 
has  now  about  seven  thousand  branch  offices,  and  its 
clients  are  so  numerous  that  they  represent  nearly  an 
eighteenth  part  of  the  population  of  France  and  Algiers 
combined.  The  interest  paid  is  only  three  per  cent, 
and  that  so  many  should  be  content  to  receive  this  is 
an  indication  either  that  other  opportunities  for  invest- 
ment are  not  numerous,  or  that  they  have  not  the  hold 
the  Government  has  on  the  popular  confidence.  Most 
of  the  deposits,  as  a  matter  of  course,  are  small.  One- 
half  of  the  two  million  of  investors  have  to  their  credit 
a  less  amount  than  $20.  The  latest  statistics  accessible 
as  we  write  show  that  within  the  year  new  accounts  had 
been  opened  to  the  number  of  348,695;  and,  as  an  in- 
dication of  the  extent  to  which  the  national  thrift  is 
shared  in  by  the  fair  sex,  it  is  worth  noting  that  150,787 
of  these  were  opened  by  women. 

That  these  evidences  of  national  prosperity  are  not 
misleading  is  strikingly  shown  in  a  recent  report  of  Mr. 
Horace  G.  Knowles,  United  States  consul  at  Bordeaux. 
This  report  devotes  special  attention  to  the  growth  of 
French  prosperity  during  the  past  twenty  years.  Since 
the  fall  of  the  Second  Empire,  for  example,  the  pro- 
duction of  coal  in  France  has  increased  90  per  cent, 
and  its  consumption  by  71  per  cent.  The  tonnage  of 
the  goods  transported  by  railway  has  increased  87  per 
per  cent;  the  number  of  travelers  by  rail  has  doubled; 
postal  business  has  augmented  by  140  per  cent;  the 


228  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

cash  reserve  in  the  Bank  of  France  has  doubled  ;  be- 
tween 1869  and  1891  the  funds  in  the  French  savings 
banks  increased  fourfold;  people  throughout  the  country 
are  in  easier  circumstances;  and,  as  this  report  says, 
"if  the  burden  now  laid  upon  the  taxpayer  is  heavier 
than  formerly,  he  has,  to  say  the  least,  greater  resources 
at  his  disposal.  Under  no  reyime  has  wealth  in  France 
developed  with  such  rapid  strides  as  under  the  present 
system  of  government." 

All  this  is  very  true,  but  unfortunately  the  pros- 
perity of  the  nation  under  the  Republic  has  a  reverse 
side  to  it;  for  during  this  time  those  in  power  have 
been  piling  up  an  enormous  debt,  which  amounts  now 
to  not  far  from  six  billions  of  dollars.  The  national 
debt  of  France  is  considerably  more  than  twice  what  it 
was  when  the  Empire  went  down.  It  is  quite  true  that 
the  chief  cause  of  this  vast  increase  was  the  disastrous 
war  into  which  the  nation  was  precipitated  by  Na- 
poleon III.  But  that  is  long  ago,  and,  unfortunately, 
the  debt  of  France  still  grows.  What  is  more,  and 
worse,  the  revenues  at  present  seem  quite  inadequate  to 
the  financial  drain  it  imposes.  Fancy  the  difficulty  of 
meeting  an  annual  call  for  something  like  two  hundred 
and  sixty  million  dollars  in  interest  and  annuities! 

If  a  national  debt  is — as  some  one  has  called  it — a 
national  blessing,  France  ought  to  be  very  happy  and 
very  proud.  No  other  nation  is  blessed  as  she  in  this 
respect,  or  anything  like  it.  Russia  comes  next,  with 


POVERTY  AND  WEALTH.  229 

a  debt  of  about  three  and  a  half  billion  dollars.  But 
Russia,  with  a  national  debt  only  seven-twelfths  as  large, 
has  a  population  back  of  it  which  is  more  than  twice 
that  of  France.  The  English  debt  is  about  the  same 
as  that  of  Russia;  while  the  Prussian  Government  has 
only  to  carry,  as  against  the  six  billions  of  France,  a 
solitary  one  billion  of  dollars — indeed,  a  little  less  than 
that.  England  and  Germany,  moreover,  have  their 
national  indebtedness  so  well  in  hand,  and  are  so  well 
provided  with  permanent  revenues  for  taking  care  of 
it,  that  they  could  carry  the  incubus  without  strain  for 
an  indefinite  period.  But  the  French  system  is  a  system 
of  expedients  and  makeshifts.  Those  who  have  care- 
fully observed  it,  say  that  it  is  the  "hand-to-mouth  prin- 
ciple," and  that  the  vital  difference  between  Germany 
and  France  is,  that  Germany  could  go  on  as  she  is  now 
doing  and  see  her  national  debt  finally  extinguished, 
whereas  France  can  only  look  forward  under  existing 
conditions — the  question  of  war  left  out  of  the  account 
altogether — to  increasing  embarrassment,  issuing  finally 
in  a  great  crisis. 

This  is  what  the  wiseacres  of  finance  tell  us,  and  of 
course  they  have  the  figures  with  which  to  back  up 
their  statements.  But,  for  our  part,  we  do  not  doubt 
that  a  nation  which  has  so  much  wealth  in  it,  and  which 
is  pre-eminent  amongst  European  powers  for  the  large 
number  of  its  citizens  who  have  money  in  the  bank, 
will  not  only  continue  to  raise  whatever  may  be^needed 


230  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

for  emergencies,  but  will  get  her  national  finances  into 
such  condition  before  long  that  everything  will  move 
smoothly,  and  the  obvious  trend  of  all  be  toward  in- 
creasing strength,  rather  than  passible  catastrophe.  As 
an  evidence  of  French  shrewdness  on  a  large  scale,  we 
have  heard  it  said  that  the  nation  in  twenty  years  has 
made  enough  money  out  of  its  monopoly  of  matches  to 
pay  the  German  war  indemnity.  This,  of  course,  is  an 
exaggeration.  But  out  of  the  two  monopolies  of  matches 
and  tobacco  she  has  made  far  more  than  enough  for  that 
purpose;  and  it  is  our  judgment  that  a  nation  which 
can  do  this  will  not  end  in  smoke  very  soon,  and  will 
prove  more  than  a  match  finally  for  even  the  stupendous 
national  debt  she  has  incurred. 

Every  country,  even  the  most  prosperous,  has  its 
problem  of  poverty  to  deal  with ;  and  France,  in  spite 
of  her  unparalleled  diffusion  of  wealth,  is  no  exception 
to  this  rule.  France,  however,  is  far  from  having  the 
great  mass  of  poor  that  England  has.  This  is  due 
chiefly,  no  doubt,  to  those  economic  conditions  which 
make  it  possible  for  so  many  of  her  toiling  citizens  to 
acquire  laud,  and  to  live  in  their  own  houses;  but  the 
superior  thrift  of  the  French  has  something  to  do  with 
it.  And  still  another  reason  why  dependence  is  less 
common  in  France  than  in  England  is,  that  it  has  been 
less  encouraged  there.  The  English  system  provides 
that  every  family  not  able  to  live  by  its  own  efforts 
may  obtain,  by  legal  right,  a  subsistence  from  the  par- 


POVERTY  AND  WEALTH.  231 

ish,  and,  at  the  last  extremity,  fiud  a  shelter,  such  as  it 
is,  in  some  poor-house.  Poverty  is  a  recognized  insti- 
stutioii  there,  and  the  poor-rate  an  ever-present  terror 
to  all  householders. 

In  France  it  is  different  There  is  no  poor-rate,  and 
the  only  persons  who  have  a  legal  right  to  Government 
support  are  lunatics  and  orphans.  These  it  cares  for 
partly  in  a  few  buildings  of  its  own,  and  in  still  larger 
part  by  paying  for  their  support  elsewhere.  Hospitals 
for  the  sick  and  asylums  for  the  infirm  are  either  private 
or  Communal  enterprises.  The  Government,  however, 
contributes  to  their  expenses  and  exercises  supervision 
over  them.  This  matter  is  devolved  by  law  upon  the 
Ministry  of  the  Interior,  and  is  attended  to  by  a  de- 
partment called  the  Assistance  Publique.  Its  funds  are 
derived  from  a  variety  of  sources,  and  it  operates  in 
every  Commune.  The  amount  annually  expended  for 
the  indoor  and  outdoor  relief  of  the  sick,  aged,  and  in- 
firm— including  orphans  and  lunatics — is  about  thirty 
million  dollars.  The  Government  furnishes  a  part  of 
this  fund,  and  it  often  benefits  by  bequests.  Once  a 
year,  too,  the  citizens  generally  are  appealed  to  in  be- 
half of  it;  though  perhaps  the  most  interesting  fact  of 
all  is  that  the  Assistance  Publique  of  France  draws  a 
considerable  portion  of  its  revenues  from  a  tax  on  the 
gross  receipts  at  all  theatrical  performances,  and  from 
the  betting  which  forms  so  large  a  feature  at  the  nu- 
merous horse-races. 


XXIII. 

THE  WAR-CLOUD. 

A  MERICANS  who  are  so  exceptional  as  not  to  have 
-/~V.  visited  Europe  think  it  strange  that  European 
correspondents  give  such  prominence  as  they  do  to  mili- 
tary affairs,  and  wonder  why  it  is  that  these  worthy 
gentlemen  treat  the  American  public  as  regularly  as 
the  spring  opens  to  sensational  predictions  of  an  im- 
pending European  war.  The  time  was  when  we  were 
perplexed  upon  these  points  ourself,  but  we  think 
now  that  we  fully  understand  the  matter.  A  little,  of 
course,  must  be  allowed  for  newspaper  "enterprise "- 
and  you  can  spell  the  word  with  a  big  "E,"  if  you 
like,  and  leave  room  in  it  for  a  considerable  exercise  of 
the  imaginative  faculties;  but  this  is  only  a  partial  ex- 
planation. To  do  full  justice,  the  question  of  environ- 
ment must  be  taken  into  account.  One  breathes  in 
Europe  a  military  atmosphere.  The  armaments  of 
these  nations  are  the  biggest  things  about  them.  The 
question  of  war  or  peace  is  nearly  always  the  question 
of  the  hour,  and  national  happiness  waits  continually 
upon  the  answer.  From  this  point  of  view  the  differ- 
ence between  the  United  States  and  France  is  the  dif- 
ference between  a  nation  with  a  standing  army  of 

twenty-five   thousand,   and   another    nation,   not    much 
232 


THE  WAR-CLOUD.  233 

more  than  half  as  populous,  which  has  a  standing  army 
of  about  a  million  and  a  quarter,  with  men  enough  in 
its  reserve  forces  to  swell  the  number  to  over  four  mill- 
ions. To  put  the  contrast  in  another  light,  there  are 
twice  as  many  soldiers  in  Paris  alone  as  you  could  drum 
up  to-day  within  the  far-reaching  limits  of  our  entire 
Nation. 

After  residing  here  for  a  time  one  gets  an  inkling 
of  the  significance  of  these  figures,  and  of  the  awful 
possibilities  they  open  up  as  regards  the  future.  The 
dilemma  which  confronts  you  is  this — either  that  the 
French  people  are  a  nation  of  fools,  bent  on  bankrupt- 
ing themselves  without  any  good  reason;  or,  that  they 
are  a  nation  over  whose  heads  a  tremendous  war-cloud 
impends,  which  may  break  at  any  time  with  such  de- 
structive fury  as  to  threaten  their  very  existence.  Per- 
haps they  are  fools  anyway.  Perhaps  all  these  Conti- 
nental peoples  are  fools.  This  does  n't  seem  at  all 
improbable  when  you  remember  that  every  century  the 
battle-fields  of  Europe  absorb  the  life-blood  of  eighteen 
or  twenty  millions  of  her  flowering  manhood,  and  that 
Germany,  after  her  great  victory  over  France,  spent  the 
billion  dollars  of  indemnity  she  exacted  in  strengthen- 
ing her  defenses,  and  has  since  laid  out  on  her  army 
more  than  three  billions  of  dollars  taken  out  of  the 
pockets  of  her  own  people.  But  here  again  the  ques- 
tion of  environment  comes  in ;  for  if  one  nation  in 
Europe  does  it,  they  must  all  do  it.  So  they  say  over 


234  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

here,  at  least;  and,  after  studying  the  situation  at  close 
rauge,  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  either  France  or  Ger- 
many could  do,  in  the  circumstances  in  which  they  are 
placed,  any  differently  from  what  they  are  doing. 

On  the  surface  of  things  it  would  appear  as  though 
all  these  elaborate  preparations  for  war  were,  after  all, 
the  best  possible  guarantee  of  continued  peace.  Ger- 
many, it  is  quite  certain,  has  been  less  inclined  to  pre- 
cipitate a  conflict  with  France  since  1889,  when  the 
latter,  by  a  sweeping  war  measure,  made  army  service 
practically  universal.  It  is  certain,  too,  that  when  the 
new  army  measures  have  been  completed  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Rhine,  France  will  be  less  inclined  than  be- 
fore to  renew  hostilities  against  Germany.  And  still 
another  safeguard  arising  from  the  extension  of  military 
conscriptions  is,  that  the  further  they  extend,  the  more 
they  involve  the  nation  as  a  whole,  and  the  more,  in 
consequence,  do  they  make  the  question  of  war  or  peace 
one  in  which  the  whole  nation  is  personally  interested. 
In  France,  where  the  Government  is  strictly  representa- 
tive, this  is  particularly  the  case.  This  nation  is  no 
longer  a  plaything  for  kings.  It  is  not  within  the 
power  of  an  emperor  or  a  president  to  let  loose  her  dogs 
of  war.  If  war  shall  come,  it  will  be  because  the  peo- 
ple shall  so  decree ;  and  since  the  people  are  the  army — 
every  family  contributing  its  contingent — it  would  seem 
to  be  only  a  plausible  supposition  that  they  will  move 
cautiously,  and,  before  drawing  the  sword,  pause  a  little 


THE  WAR-CLOUD  235 

time  to  count  the  cost,  and  see  if  such  a  dire  extremity 
may  not  by  some  means  be  averted. 

This  is  how  one  could  wish  it  to  be,  and  how  the 
surface  facts  would  warrant  us  in  expecting  that  it  will 
be ;  but  there  is,  unfortunately,  another  side  to  this  fair 
picture.  It  is  quite  true  as  regards  France  that  the 
initiative  of  war  rests  with  the  great  body  of  the  peo- 
ple; but  it  is  equally  true  that  the  people  of  this  nation 
are  resting  at  present  under  the  humiliation  of  a  crush- 
ing defeat,  and  that,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  they 
cherish  feelings  of  bitterness,  perhaps  even  of  vindic- 
tiveness,  toward  the  nation  which  chastised  them.  In 
moving  amongst  the  French  people  it  becomes  painfully 
evident  to  even  the  most  casual  observer  that  the  pres- 
ent peace  is  looked  upon  merely  as  a  truce  between  two 
engagements — that  the  battle  for  final  supremacy  has 
yet  to  come,  and  that  the  French  people,  while  they 
may  fear  to  hasten  that  final  duel,  will  not  seek  to 
avoid  it,  and  will  consider  their  situation  permanently 
tranquil  only  when  it  has  been  fought  and  won. 

The  French  are  exceedingly  sensitive.  Proud  of 
their  history  as  a  nation  of  fighters,  and  with  a  passion 
for  military  glory  such  as  no  other  of  the  great  powers 
of  Europe  has  shown,  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that 
they  would  accept  German  domination  as  a  permanency 
without  at  least  one  effort  to  rid  themselves  of  it;  and, 
of  course,  their  partial  dismemberment,  by  the  annexa- 
tion to  Germany  of  Alsace  and  Lorraine,  makes  this 


236  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

additionally  unlikely.  That  Russian  diplomat  who, 
after  the  treaty  of  Frankfort,  congratulated  the  Iron 
Chancellor  upon  having  annexed  an  open  wound,  did 
not  miss  the  mark  very  far.  The  annexed  provinces 
are  wounds  indeed,  and  they  have  any  amount  of  proud- 
flesh  in  them.  An  index  of  French  feeling  on  the  sub- 
ject is  afforded  constantly  in  the  Place  de  la  Concorde, 
where  the  Statue  of  Strasburg  is  almost  always  dec- 
orated with  emblems  of  national  mourning;  and,  what 
is  still  more  suggestive,  you  can  see  in  some  of  the  shop- 
windows  a  photograph  of  this  statue,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion beneath  it:  "Taken  by  the  Germans,  1870.  Re- 
taken by  the  French,  189-." 

These  are  only  straws,  to  be  sure,  but  they  show 
plainly  enough  in  what  direction  the  popular  feeling  is 
set.  Recently,  too,  was  French  sensitiveness  on  this 
subject  put  to  a  rather  severe  strain,  the  offending  party 
being,  unfortunately,  the  German  chancellor,  Count 
Von  Capri vi.  His  great  army-bill  speech  was,  in  one 
view,  decidedly  flattering  to  French  vanity.  It  is  quite 
certain  that  ordinarily  the  French  would  not  object  to 
hearing  their  capital  spoken  of  as  "a  fortified  city  such 
as  the  world  has  never  known  before,"  or  to  be  reminded 
that  their  forts  are  "equipped  with  all  the  strength  of 
modern  science,"  and  that  they  have  "army  corps  which 
are  very  different  from  those  of  1870."  Such  sayings 
would  make  sweet  music  in  French  ears,  assuming  their 
source  to  be  agreeable  and  their  motive  above  suspi- 


THE  WAR-CLOUD.  237 

ciou.  But  when  Caprivi  says  these  things  for  the  pur- 
pose of  converting  the  Germans  to  his  own  view  of 
their  enhanced  military  requirements,  and  when  in  say- 
ing them  he  takes  the  German  army  across  the  western 
frontier,  and  in  thought  plants  it  once  more  before  the 
walls  of  Paris,  the  case  is  so  altered  that  compliments 
become  almost  as  stinging  as  bullets  would  be. 

French  feeling  was  deeply  touched  by  this  speech. 
"Peace  was  the  pretext,"  said  a  member  of  the  Cabinet, 
commenting  upon  it,  "but  war  was  the  subject.  M.  de 
Caprivi  not  only  says  publicly  that  war  is  possible,  but 
he  even  dwells  lovingly  upon  the  spectacle  which  the 
German  army  would  witness  were  it  to  enter  French 
territory.  I  am  well  aware  that  M.  de  Caprivi  is  a 
general,  and  that  this  sort  of  talk  must  seem  quite  nat- 
ural to  him ;  but  he  is  also  an  imperial  chancellor,  upon 
whom  depend  the  diplomatic  relations  between  his 
country  and  other  powers,  and  he  assuredly  ought  not 
to  speak  in  that  style.  Under  the  circumstances  we 
could  almost  wish  that  he  would  be  less  pacific,  if  he 
would  be  more  respectful  of  parliamentary  usage,  in  his 
language." 

A  very  palpable  proof  that  the  bent  of  France  is  in 
the  direction  of  war  is  seen  every  day  in  the  effusive 
sentimentality  of  the  nation  toward  Russia.  The  Rus- 
sian royalties  are  the  biggest  lions  the  French"  capital 
ever  entertains,  and  the  Russian  flag  is  seen  so  often  in 
loving  company  with  the  tricolor  that  you  could  almost 


238  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

imagine  the  two  flags  were  one,  with  but  a  single 
thought.  That  the  Russian  Bear  and  the  Republican 
Lamb  should  be  on  terms  of  such  gushing  familiarity  is 
a  singular  spectacle,  and  there  can  be  only  one  explana- 
tion of  it. 

Another  warlike  symptom  is  the  great  popularity  of 
the  army,  and  the  comparative  cheerfulness  with  which 
the  nation,  at  enormous  expense,  has  resolved  itself 
within  a  few  years  into  a  universal  military  camp. 
Germany  submits  to  new  exactions  with  reluctance. 
She  chafes  and  kicks  under  .a  military  system  which 
would  have  to  be  far  more  severe  than  it  is  to  tax  the 
nation  either  in  pocket  or  person  as  the  French  are 
taxed.  In  Germany,  at  present,  the  contribution  per 
head  for  national  defense  is  only  about  two-thirds  as 
much  as  the  people  of  France  are  paying,  and  general 
taxation  there  does  not  amount  per  head  to  even  one- 
half  what  it  is  here.  The  fact  is,  no  people  in  Europe 
are  taxed  as  the  French  are,  and  the  reason  they  sub- 
mit with  so  good  a  grace  is  undoubtedly  because  their 
feelings  are  aroused.  They  have  a  great  loss  to  retrieve 
and  a  wounded  spirit  to  avenge;  and  the  way  in  which 
at  present  they  pay  out  their  money  in  taxes  is  only 
too  palpable  an  earnest  of  how,  when  the  need  arises, 
they  will  pour  out  their  blood  in  this  cause. 

Paradoxical  as  it  may  seem,  the  least  warlike  of  all 
the  things  one  sees  in  France  is  the  physique  of  the 
average  French  soldier.  You  meet  plenty  of  military 


THE  WAR-CLOUD.  239 

men  on  the  streets  of  Paris,  but  one  could  hardly  be 
afraid  of  them.  They  look  decidedly  pretty,  but  not  at 
all  formidable.  There  are  many  exceptions,  of  course ; 
but  the  general  run  of  these  "soldier  boys"  are  boyish- 
looking  in  the  extreme,  with  short,  slender  frames,  and 
with  hardly  enough  masculinity  in  them — so  it  would 
seem — to  bristle  out  into  even  a  vigorous-looking  mili- 
tary mustache.  As  regards  officers,  the  specimens  you 
see  on  the  streets  of  Berlin  are  a  race  of  giants  in  com- 
parison with  those  who  trip  daintily  along  the  boule 
vards  of  Paris.  Man  to  man,  the  French  would  surely 
have  no  chance.  But  the  coming  war  will  be  one  of 
strategy  and  science,  not  one  of  brute  force.  The  fight- 
ing will  be  done  by  machines  and  brains,  and  if  the 
French  are  superior  to  the  Germans  in  their  possession 
of  these  requisites,  they  may  come  off  victorious,  spite 
of  their  disproportionate  stature — especially  if  their 
army  shall  retain  until  that  time  its  present  numerical 
supremacy. 

This  question  of  peace  or  war  is  linked  in  France 
to  another  grave  question.  If  those  in  power  should 
discern  the  time  when  a  blow  could  be  struck  with  the 
certainty  of  success,  and  should  then  proceed  to  strike 
it,  winning  back  the  two  lamented  provinces  and  treat- 
ing the  Germans  as  the  French  themselves  were  treated 
a  couple  of  decades  ago,  it  would  not  be  asked  again — 
certainly  not  for  many  years — whether  the  Republic  had 
come  to  stay.  Such  a  victory  would  do  more  to  estab- 


240  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

lish  the  existing  form  of  government  than  could  be  done 
in  twenty  years  of  peace,  even  if  those  years  were  un- 
varyingly prosperous.  The  test  of  war  has  yet  to  come  to 
this  regenerated  nation,  and  until  that  has  been  reached 
and  safely  passed,  the  man  who  should  say  that  the  Re- 
public is  necessarily  permanent  would  either  be  very 
rash  or  very  ignorant.  The  French  people  become 
desperate  under  defeat;  and  in  the  event  of  a  repeti- 
tion of  the  disasters  of  '71,  it  is  difficult  to  believe, 
after  all  we  know  of  the  French  temperament  and  of 
French  history,  that  the  Republican  Government,  as  it 
exists  to-day,  would  fare  any  better  than  the  Govern- 
ment of  Napoleon  did.  But  as  to  this,  if  we  live  long 
enough,  we  shall  see  for  ourselves. 


XXIV. 

CONTRASTS  AND  CONCLUSIONS. 

HARDLY  anything  in  French  life  has  impressed  us 
more  forcibly  than  the  many  striking  contrasts  it 
presents.  We  have  always  known  that  humanity  was  a 
bundle  of  contradictions,  but  our  studies  of  French 
humanity  have  strengthened  this  conviction  a  hundred- 
fold. Assuming  variety  to  be  the  spice  of  life,  the 
French,  it  must  be  admitted,  are  a  highly-seasoned  peo- 
ple ;  and  it  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to  say  that,  from 
this  point  of  view,  they  are  the  most  interesting  nation- 
ality in  Europe.  Just  as  French  artists  excel  in  the 
niceties  of  light  and  shadow,  so  it  is  in  the  daily  life  of 
the  French  people  as  a  whole.  The  lights  are  very 
distinct,  and  these,  unfortunately,  are  no  more  pleasing 
than  the  shadows  are  repulsive  and  ominous.  To  begin 
with  material  things,  it  is  in  France  that  you  find  fru- 
gality more  fully  exemplified  than  in  other  modern 
nations;  and  here  also  do  you  find  the  love  of  dress 
and  the  craving  for  table  indulgences  carried  to  such  an 
unparalleled  extent  that  it  vitiates  the  morals,  and,  as 
French  writers  themselves  do  not  hesitate  to  declare, 
acts  as  a  restraint  ou  the  natural  growth  one  ought  to 
find  in  population.  As  to  money,  people  in  France 

affect  to  scorn  it  as  a  solace  for  blighted  affections  and 

16  241 


242  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

wounded  honor.  In  affairs  of  this  kind  the  revolver  is 
preferred  to  breach  of  promise  suits,  and  cold  steel  to 
damages  for  libel.  None  the  less,  however,  French 
shopkeepers,  to  make  all  they  can  out  of  a  rapacious 
public,  do  nearly  all  their  trade  on  the  bargain  and 
barter  principle,  and  the  people  generally  are  such  evi- 
dent lovers  of  filthy  lucre  that  even  marriage  is  invested 
with  a  distinctly  mercantile  aspect;  while,  in  further 
proof,  one  needs  only  to  recall  the  Panama  revelations, 
which  indicate  at  once  the  prevalence  of  the  gambling 
instinct  among  the  poor  of  France,  and  the  fascination 
exercised  by  the  gains  of  gambling  over  many  who  are 
better  off  in  the  world. 

To  skip  from  material  to  religious  tendencies,  it  may 
surely  be  said  of  the  chief  city  of  France  that  it  is  a 
city  of  churches;  and  yet  it  is  just  as  true,  and  far 
more  customary,  to  speak  of  it  as  a  city  of  pleasure, 
not  to  mention  the  still  more  unsavory  names  which  are 
sometimes  given  to  it.  Our  Lady  of  Lourdes,  with  the 
superstitions  which  cluster  about  her  shrine,  is  no  more 
really  a  French  character  than  the  lady  of  fashion,  with 
crowds  of  weak-headed  masculinity  draggling  in  her 
train.  How  much  of  open  and  incipient  unbelief  there 
is  in  France  is  but  too  apparent  on  every  hand ;  yet 
side  by  side  with  this,  there  is  so  much  faith  in  the 
supernatural  that  religious  retreats  are  still  numerous, 
and  men  and  women  to  be  found  everywhere  so  ab- 
sorbed in  the  thought  of  a  future  life  that  present  hard- 


13 

.*3        243 


ship  is  [a  joy  to  them.  As  an  English  writer  has  said, 
"France  is  the  country  of  the  woman  of  the  world,  la 
mondaine,  and  of  the  Carmelite  nun  —  the  one  living  in 
the  utmost  luxury,  the  other  in  the  hardest  austerity  — 
and  a  gleam  of  hope  or  a  cloud  of  disappointment  in 
the  life  of  a  young  lady  may  determine  for  her  which 
of  the  two  she  is  to  be." 

Still  looking  for  contrasts,  we  turn  now  to  the  social 
aspects  of  French  life,  beginning,  as  we  ought,  with  the 
home.  Everybody  knows  how  strong  and  tender  are 
family  ties  in  this  country,  and  the  most  casual  ob- 
server must  also  see  what  a  painful  lack  there  is  of 
genuine  home-life.  It  is  the  country  of  which  we  are 
told  that  its  young  men  have  a  remarkable  fondness  for 
their  mothers;  and,  by  a  strange  paradox,  it  is  also  the 
country  of  which  we  know  that  the  place  of  predilec- 
tion for  the  great  mass  of  its  young  life  is  not  the  home- 
circle,  but  the  cafe.  In  regard  to  girlhood,  the  home 
and  school  surveillance  is  so  strict  as  to  savor  some- 
what of  the  Oriental  system,  while,  as  regards  a  large 
section  of  its  female  society  beyond  the  pale  of  home- 
life,  the  rules  of  conduct  are  so  lax  as  to  suggest  Ori- 
entalism of  quite  another  kind.  It  is  only  within  re- 
cent years  that  France  has  re-enacted  a  divorce  law. 
How  she  managed  to  get  along  without  one  was  always  a 
mystery  to  us,  and  when  we  now  learn  that  the  number 
of  divorces  in  1891  was  5,752,  with  the  annual  output 
steadily  increasing,  our  surprise  is  deepened.  Against 


244  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

England's  annual  showing  of  less  than  300  divorces, 
these  figures  exhibit  France  in  a  dreadful  light;  and 
she  is  evidently  worse  behaved  in  this  matter,  though 
not  very  much  so,  than  her  sister  Republic  over  the  sea. 
Looking  now  at  social  life  in  its  broader  phases,  the 
contrasts  which  meet  us  are  no  less  striking  than  those 
afforded  in  family  and  domestic  circles.  Unless  the 
French  are  grossly  overrated,  they  beat  the  world  in 
politeness.  For  that  sort  of  polish  which  qualifies  peo- 
ple to  glide  easily  through  the  forms  and  requirements 
of  society,  they  have  no  equals.  Their  language  lends 
itself  to  this  accomplishment;  and  it  would  seem,  too, 
as  though  a  peculiar  suppleness  and  grace  of  manner 
had  been  given  to  them  for  the  same  end.  Neverthe- 
less the  French  can  be  decidedly  rude  when  their  feel- 
ings are  touched ;  and  when  one  remembers  how  sensitive 
they  'are,  this  means  that  they  can  often  be  rude,  and 
that  a  childish  resentment  may  sometimes  be  shown,  as 
their  own  writers  admit,  where  there  is  no  excuse  for  it. 
One  thing  about  the  French  impresses  us  very  oddly, 
and  that  is  their  habit  of  kissing  each  other.  We 
mean,  of  course,  kissing  between  men.  The  other  form 
is  neither  French  nor  Continental — only  human.  But 
as  to  kissing  in  France,  one  has  to  remember  that  this 
country,  where  men  are  so  effusively  sentimental  as  to 
gush  in  this  manner  over  their  fellow-men,  is  also  the 
country  where  the  duel  finds  a  congenial  home,  and 
where  the  same  persons  who  saluted  but  yesterday  on 


CONTRASTS  AND  CONCLUSIONS.  245 

bearded  cheeks,  may  salute  to-day  with  clashing  swords 
and  eyes  aflame  with  hatred. 

That  there  is  a  great  contrast  between  city  life  and 
country  life  will  readily  be  believed.  This  is  true  in 
every  nation,  though,  for  obvious  reasons,  it  is  especially 
true  in  France.  There  is  only  one  Paris,  and  whatever 
its  excellences  or  failures  otherwise,  all  will  agree  that 
for  gayety,  for  wine  and  song  and  dance,  and  for  all 
the  other  arts  and  diversions  which  by  the  worldly- 
minded  are  thought  necessary  to  drive  dull  care  away 
and  to  kill  time  pleasantly,  this  city  by  the  Seine  has  no 
rival  in  Europe  or  America.  But  from  Parisian  boule- 
vards to  the  quaint,  sleepy  hamlets  of  France,  what  a 
change !  You  can  find  rural  nooks  where  even  the 
Parisian  language  would  not  be  understood ;  and  as  to 
Parisian  habits  and  manners,  it  is  a  happy  fact  in  some 
respects,  that  rural  life  as  a  whole  is  as  different  from 
Paris  life  as  one  could  either  desire  or  imagine.  If  the 
best  authorities  are  to  be  credited,  country  life  in  France 
is  as  much  distinguished  for  dullness  as  city  life  is  for 
gayety.  It  is  said,  too,  that  in  the  former  of  these 
categories  must  be  classed  the  sort  of  life  to  which 
Frenchmen  are  accustomed  in  the  general  average  of 
their  good-sized  towns. 

Returning  again  to  a  subject  of  commanding  attract- 
iveness, it  is  the  boast  of  Frenchmen  that  they  are  de- 
voted admirers  of  the  fair  sex.  Woman  is  their  idol, 
they  tell  us.  We  quote  only  that  which  is  common  in 


246  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

both  their  conversation  and  their  literature  when  we 
say  that,  as  regards  the  generality  of  Frenchmen,  "it  is 
a  case  of  woman-worship."  If,  however,  we  admit  this, 
and  then  look  around  for  the  evidences  of  such  worship, 
how  many  things  we  see  which  stagger  us!  If  the 
French  are  true  worshipers  of  woman,  how  strange  it 
seems  that  everywhere  in  the  lower  classes  she  is  an 
equal  participant  with  the  male  species  in  the  drudgery 
of  daily  toil!  Why  is  it,  too,  that  French  law  makes 
the  wife  a  sharer  with  the  husband  in  the  expenses  of 
family  life,  and  that  French  custom  drags  her  so  often 
into  an  active  partnership  with  him  in  store  and  market? 
One  would  think,  too,  that  a  nation  of  woman-wor- 
shipers would  make  laws  for  the  protection  of  women 
against  the  treachery  and  baseness  of  men.  Instead  of 
this,  however,  we  find  that  a  betrayed  girl  in  France  is 
not  allowed  even  the  poor  solace  of  an  action  in  court 
against  her  seducer,  and  has  no  claim  upon  him  for  the 
support  of  her  dishonored  offspring.  What  this  means 
in  a  country  reporting  73,936  cases  of  illegitimacy  for 
1891,  the  reader  may  imagine  for  himself.  We  only 
note  these  facts  as  affording  another  instance  of  the 
wide  discrepancy  one  sometimes  finds  between  French 
sentiment  and  French  practice. 

Extending  our  observations  to  the  department  of 
politics,  we  still  find  extremes  meeting  and  contrasts  of 
various  kinds  obtruding  upon  our  notice.  But  within 
this  realm  greater  charity  is  demanded.  France  is  try- 


CONTRASTS  AND  CONCLUSIONS.  247 

ing  an  experiment  in  Jier  political  life.  She  is  on  a 
comparatively  new  tack;  whereas  socially  and  religiously 
she  is  the  finished  product  of  a  thousand  years  of  steady 
evolution.  In  the  latter  aspect  she  challenges  criticism  ; 
in  the  former  department  she  appeals  for  sympathy.  It 
is  not  at  all  strange  that  we  should  find  in  France,  side 
by  side  with  the  triumphant  champions  of  democracy,  a 
set  of  people  animated  by  pride  of  birth  and  warmly 
attached  to  monarchical  institutions.  Perhaps,  moreover, 
one  of  these  classes  is  as  reasonably  excusable  for  its 
love  of  the  old  forms  as  the  other  is  presumptively  right 
in  its  maintenance  of  the  new.  In  any  case,  class  an- 
tagonism of  this  sort  is  only  what  we  might  expect, 
considering  that  it  is  yet  but  twenty  years  since  the  Re- 
public experienced  its  third  resurrection.  Pity  it  is, 
though,  that  the  real  aristocracy  should  have  so  many 
shoddy  imitators — that  so  many  Frenchmen  as  they  get 
rich,  finding  no  king  to  ennoble  them,  should,  as  Mr. 
Hamerton  says,  "feel  justified  in  ennobling  themselves," 
and  should  be  so  silly  as  to  think  that  by  putting  the 
de  before  their  names  they  blossom  at  once  into  a  set  of 
beings  for  whom  a  republican  government  is  not  good 
enough! 

We  could  also  wish  that  the  French,  having 
committed  themselves  to  republicanism,  were  less  fond 
of  decorations  than  they  are.  The  red  ribbon  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor  is  as  common  on  Parisian  thorough- 
fares as  gashed  cheeks  are  in  Berlin,  and  is  given  away, 


248  IN  SUNNY  FRANCE. 

one  would  think,  with  almost  as  free  a  hand  as  degrees 
are  lavished  upon  American  clergymen. 

As  a  practical  illustration  of  what  France  can  afford 
us  in  the  way  of  political  contrasts,  we  note  two  recent 
occurrences  in  the  French  capital.  One  was  the  decree 
of  the  Municipal  Council  of  Paris  condemning  to  de- 
struction the  unique-looking  "Chapelle  Expiatoire,"  on 
Boulevard  Hausmann,  erected  by  Louis  XVIII  to  the 
memory  of  Louis  XVI  and  Marie  Antoinette;  and  the 
other  was  when,  a  few  weeks  later,  upon  the  centennial 
anniversary  of  Louis  XVI,  most  of  the  Churches  of 
Paris  held  services  and  were  draped  in  mourning  in  his 
honor,  the  service  at  the  fashionable  Church  of  Saint 
Francois  Xavier  being  attended,  as  the  papers  told  us, 
by  "  the  entire  aristocracy  of  Faubourg  Saint  Germain," 
and  by  many  representatives  of  French  royalty.  Here 
was  a  contrast  indeed,  and  perhaps  there  is  food  for  re- 
flection in  it. 

Among  all  the  nations,  where  shall  we  find  one  more 
wedded  than  the  French  to  the  love  of  glory,  or  a  peo- 
ple more  given  than  these  formerly  were  to  the  worship 
of  great  names?  It  would  seem,  though,  as  if  all  the 
heroes  of  France  were  now  dead.  Certainly  there  is  no 
living  greatness  which  commands  worship,  or  even  per- 
manent respect.  Popularity  in  these  days  is  the  sure 
precursor  of  destruction.  Here  again  do  we  see  the 
variance  which  exists  between  French  sentiment  and 
French  practice.  The  national  heart  pants  for  great 


CONTRASTS  AND  CONCLUSIONS.  249 

leaders;  but  French  jealousy,  like  the  unkindly  frosts 
of  spring,  seems  destined  to  blight  the  budding  sprouts 
of  genius  before  they  have  time  to  ripen.  This  tend- 
ency is  as  distinctly  recognized  by  thoughtful  French- 
men as  by  students  from  the  outside,  and  we  do  not 
wonder  that  they  see  awful  possibilities  of  mischief  in  it. 
Spite  of  the  publicity  which  they  give,  on  church 
and  school  and  town  hall  and  everywhere  else,  to  their 
national  motto,  the  French  are  far  from  enjoying  to  the 
full  either  "Liberty,  Equality,  or  Fraternity."  There 
is  less  liberty  for  the  individual  in  France  than  in  Eng- 
land. As  to  equality,  there  is  a  better  chance  in  France 
than  in  England  to  acquire  property,  and  particularly 
land.  Perhaps,  too,  Frenchmen  are  more  nearly  equal 
than  Englishmen  before  the  law  and  in  the  enjoyment 
of  political  rights;  but  social  equality  is  no  more  to  be 
looked  for  in  one  country  than  in  the  other;  and  in 
regard  to  fraternity,  a  nation  which  is  ceasing  to  believe 
in  the  Fatherhood  -of  God  can  hardly  be  expected  to 
illustrate  in  any  marked  degree  what  is  meant  by  the 
brotherhood  of  man.  Here,  then,  is  another  contrast; 
but  we  forbear  to  dwell  upon  it,  for,  after  all,  the  people 
of  France,  in  their  political  aspirations  and  in  the  bold 
experiment  of  self-government  they  are  making,  deserve 
charity  and  commendation  far  more  than  censure,  or 
even  friendly  criticism,  and  it  is  quite  certain  that  their 
greatest  dangers  lie,  not  in  this  department,  but  within 
social  and  moral  realms. 


X  xfx  xx  xx  xx  v>  xx  KX  xx  xfx  xfxxfxxx  xx  xfx  xfxxxxxxxX 


MASSES   AND    CLASSES: 
A  Study  of  Industrial  Conditions  in  England. 

By  REV.  HENRY  TIXKLKY. 
iztno.     Cloth.     179  pages.    Post-paid, 90  cents. 

"It  describes,  with  a  brotherly  pen,  the  wants,  hardships, 
aspirations,  hopes,  and  present  achievements  of  men  and 
women  whose  position  as  wage-earners  is  similar  to  that 
of  great  multitudes  amongst  ourselves,  but  whose  oppor- 
tunities and  rewards  have  been  hitherto  decidedly  inferior 
to  our  owii." — EXTRACT  FROM  INTRODUCTION. 

OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 

"  The  book  is  unassuming-  in  style,  but  gives  in  a  readable  way  tlie 
observations  of  a  man  who  has  mingled  a  good  deal  with  the  people 
he  studies,  and  kept  his  eyes  open." — Springfield  (Mass.)  Republican. 

This  work  is  devoted  to  the  English  bread-winners,  the  toilers  by 
the  Thames,  the  street-drivers,  clerks,  shop-assistants,  London  work- 
ing-girls, and  others.  The  author  says  that  these  English  bread- 
winners are  our  own  kindred,  and  argues  that' we  should  be  informed 
of  their  situation  and  needs." — Scientific  American. 

"  The  style  of  the  book  is  more  popular  than  scientific,  but  its  facts 
are  just  those  which  workingmen  in  this  country  should  know  and 
ponder  over.  In  the  facts  presented,  .  .  .  and  in  the  comments  made 
with  full  recognition  of  England's  social  conditions,  the  author  has 
made  a  useful  volume." — Boston  (Mass.)  Journal. 

"  The  author  is  a  keen  observer,  and  knows  well  how  to  present 
his  observations  in  a  clear  and  orderly  way  to  the  reader.  The  book 
will  be  highly  prized  by  all  interested  in  the  labor  questions  in  this 
country.  It  gives  a  large  body  of  facts  in  an  accessible  form,  and  a 
complete  picture  of  industrial  England." — Zion's  Herald. 


CRANSTON  &  CURTS,  Cincinnati,  Chicago,  St.  Louis. 


BEflUTIFUL  PICTURES  OF  ENGLISH  LIFE, 


UNDER  THE  Q.UEEN ;  Or,  Present-day  Life  in  England, 

BY  RKV.  HKNRY  TUCKLEY. 

J21HO.     Cloth.    278  pages,     90  cents. 

"  With  all  her  stately  buildings,  her  wealth  of  history,  her 
stores  of  learning,  her  treasures  of  art,  and  her  many  localities 
of  world-wide  beauty  and  renown,  there  is  still  nothing  in 
Old  England  so  deeply  interesting  to  the  American  public  as 
her  people." — AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION. 

OPINIONS  OF  THE  PRESS. 
From  Public  Opinion,  Washington,  D.  C. 

It  is  not  a  book  of  travel,  or  the  description  of  public  buildings  or 
scenery,  but  a  comparison  of  the  way  in  which  the  average  Englishman 
lives  with  the  average  American  citizen's  life.  Philanthropists  and 
reformers  will  find  in  it  much  of  interest  and  value.  It  is  a  good  book 
to  be  read  by  every  one  who  thinks,  votes,  and  tries  to  help  humanity. 

From  the  lnter-Occ<in,  Cliicayo, 

Mr.  Tuckley  has  a  clear  and  graceful  style,  and  has  the  faculty  of 
getting  hold  of  facts  and  circumstances  in  winch  the  public  is  sure  to  be 
interested.  His  letters  from  London  covered  topics  far  removed  from  the 
beaten  track  of  European  correspondents,  the  intellectual  treatment  of 
which  called  for  painstaking  research  and  conscientious  fair-mindedness. 

Cincinnati  Times-Star. 

In  running  over  the  pages  of  Mr.  Tuckley's  book,  the  opinion  grows 
that  it  is  one  of  the  best  descriptions  published  of  late  concerning  the 
English  people  of  the  present-day,  and  those  who  read  it  will  have  a 
thorough  comprehension  of  our  British  cousins  as  they  are. 

From  the  Transcript,  Iitxini/ton,  Ky. 

One  of  the  most  charming  books  of  the  year.  Heretofore  writers  on 
England  have  devoted  nearly  all  their  talent  to  descriptions  of  historic 
places,  and  there  is  a  sameness  about  these  descriptions  that  is  only 
equaled  by  their  insipidity.  But  Mr.  Tuckley  has  told  us  that  which  we 
want  to  know  of  that  country  and  its  people.  He  has  made  a  great  hit 
in  the  production  of  this  book. 

Two  Splendid  Books  for  Young  People. 

BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR. 

LIFE'S  GOLDEN  MORNING :    Its  Promises  and  its  Perils. 

j 21110.     Cloth.    339  pages.     90  cents. 
FORWARD  MARCH.     Talks  to  Young  People  on  Life  and 

Success. 

J21HO.     Cloth.    239  pages.    90  cents. 


CRANSTON  &  CURTS,  PUBLISHERS, 
CINCINNATI,  CHICAGO,  ST.  LOUIS. 


A     000  041  893     9 


